Libera Me II: Antiqua Historia
by DrizztsAngel
Summary: Ciel/Lizzie, Sebastian/OC. Another tale of a former life for Sebastian Michaelis. Ciel faces Lizzie thirty years after his disappearance. A trip to the British Museum and ...Mummies? A sequel to Libera Me. Will be rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_I realize it has been over two years since I posted Libera Me. And I apologize! I have been without Internet and/or a computer for those two years. I just bought a new computer and I immediately started on my sequel. I will post as frequently as I can, I promise._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji. If you sue me you will only be very disappointed, I assure you_.

**Libera Me II: Antiqua Historia**

The Void in which they resided was like the dark side of a looking-glass. The colors muted, the air thick; the flowers and lawns that would be verdant and rich in the Phantomhive gardens lacked their vibrance, appearing to be coated with a film of dust. True, it was their home. They had no control over the ambiance of the Void. They could come and go as they pleased, but when there were no contracts to be had and no souls to be feasted upon, the two demons lived as lackluster a life as their surroundings. And those surroundings were lush, indeed. A perfect mirror image of the Phantomhive Manor, a facsimile of the gardens; the library was a flawless replica, and Ciel Phantomhive's study was a paradisiac copy of the one that had come before. If nothing else was done with such superlative detail, Sebastian Michaelis knew in his little black heart that Ciel Phantomhive wouldn't give one iota as long as his study was complete.

In the monochrome world in which they resided, a little repetition was nothing, if not somehow necessary to maintain his sanity. Sebastian went about all the duties he'd performed daily in the Phantomhive Manor; dust accumulated in the Netherworld as quickly as it had on the Surface.  
Sebastian feigned tea service every afternoon, and this was no exception. He made his way into the study with his usual flourish, finding Ciel's nose buried in a leather-bound book, face slack with disinterest. It had been several months since he'd seen the boy light up with any kind of enthusiasm. Although, Sebastian reflected, Ciel wasn't necessarily the type to light up with anything other than rage.

As demons, they could not consume human food, but tea time was a pastime Ciel Phantomhive would not do without, so Sebastian brought in the tea service at precisely the correct time each afternoon, empty pot and porcelain clinking with the slightest movement. He'd "pour" his master's tea and declare the day's pastry with his usual embellishment, placing an empty cup and plate before the young earl. Whether the boy believed it was there or not, Sebastian simply had no idea. He would sip from the empty cup and take bites from a pastry that was not there and wipe invisible crumbs from his mouth with a pristine white napkin that was never soiled when he was finished. Perhaps the boy had suffered some dementia after his sudden change... Perhaps the abrupt transformation from contract to demon had formed some aberration in his mind. Frankly, Sebastian didn't care. He would continue in his service as butler to the boy for the rest of his eternity. And he was one hell of a butler.

After the young Phantomhive had finished his "tea" and pushed his still-empty plate and fork away from himself, he picked up his worn leather-bound book and opened it again, leveling his eyes first at the page, then meeting the gaze of the impeccably clad butler gathering the service up and placing it back on its tray.

"I'm bored, Sebastian."

"I am terribly sorry, my master. What may I do to alleviate your boredom?" he replied, only allowing the tiniest bit of sarcasm to flavor his tone. It would not do to have his master upset with him, but even the best butlers could run low on patience from time to time.

"Is there any rule deterring us from seeking out a soul on our own? Or must we wait here for some poor damsel to cry out for revenge?"  
Sebastian finished clearing the earl's desk of the tea service and straightened, a bemused expression playing on his features. The boy had a long road ahead of him if he ever wished to learn all the ins and outs of demonhood. "While we would certainly 'hear' a damsel, if you will, call out for revenge here in our monotonous surroundings, there is nothing holding us back from exploring the Surface on our own. I was contracted to a Roman Legionnaire once, and happened by a delicious argument in a dark alleyway in the Capitol. I made quick work of the situation and continued on my way; a midnight snack if you will in the midst of a larger meal."

"We can go away from here for a while, then?"

"Absolutely, my young Master. Where would you like to go?"

"The British Museum. There is an Egyptian exhibit there that I quite enjoy. I would like to see it again."

The boy must've been stir-crazy indeed, if nostalgia was beginning to creep into his conscience. With a sharp bow, the butler left the room with the empty service and made his way back to the kitchen to store it away; then up to his master's chambers to prepare the boy's things for a day in bustling London.

The evening concluded, "dinner" forgone by way of Ciel's "lack of appetite". The butler assumed he'd filled himself on his pretend-cake and tea at 4 p.m. He said nothing about it, though, preferring his master's mental malady versus so many other things that could have gone wrong after his transformation. Finding himself back in the study after Ciel succumbed to sleep, Sebastian began his nightly routine of tidying the room. He picked up the book that the boy had buried his nose in all day and flipped it lackadaisically in his palms. The cover was worn; the gold emblazoned on the front chipped and faded. "A History of Ancient Egypt" it read, and the butler thumbed through the yellowing pages for a moment before sliding it back into its nook on the bookshelf. Years ago, he had regaled the young earl with a lengthy story about his past in New Orleans... Perhaps he would spin another tale about his time with the Roman Legion in Egypt. He hadn't always been one hell of a butler, he mused. He had been a soldier, a warrior, an alchemist... Many lives had been spent in service to various masters and mistresses. Truth be told, his former lives would make an excellent set of tales for print. Pity they would have to be published under "fiction".

The next morning found them about the city, overcast and dull; it was very nearly like being in the Void again. But Ciel's face was noticeably brighter, even if he didn't wear a smile as often as any other boy his age. They walked unnoticed through the thick crowds, stopping here and there, wondering at the change around them. It had been quite some time since either of them had ventured forth and the city was growing; thicker with people, denser with buildings, the evidence of the fire years previous washed away with time and progress. Now there were curious motorized buggies with shrill horns and pungent exhaust rattling through the cramped streets; ladies in notably less dress than before roaming to and fro, distinctly not selling services at the street corners. Men still looked the same, Sebastian noted, and was glad at least for that timeless invention called the "suit". He did have to bite back a bark of laughter when one particular lady noticed the young earl's confused stare and marched over to him, her slinky shapeless lace dress sashaying about her thin frame, and leaned down to meet his glare. After several moments of abashed silence, the earl averted his eyes and she laughed, loudly and very un-ladylike, reaching out to pinch his cheek and wink at him with her Kohl-lined eyes. She nodded politely to Sebastian who stood behind Ciel, ever watchful of his young master, and pulling a cigarette out of thin silver case, she sashayed past them, heading into the mass of bodies on the sidewalk.

"What just happened, Sebastian?" the boy muttered, turning his confused glare on his butler.

"I believe you were just teased, my young master. Perhaps you should take care not to be caught staring at young ladies."

"I couldn't help myself," he mumbled under his breath. "I've never seen anything like what these ...ladies... are wearing. What year is it here? Have I lost myself in that Void, forgetting the time and that things surely would change on the Surface?"

"You are simply not accustomed to viewing such startling change. Once you get used to it over so many years, you'll find that not much ever really does change. Wardrobes and technology are the only inconstant. Human nature remains the same, no matter what one uses to cover the body. Oh, and I believe we have been in the Void for approximately twenty years since our last trip... which was to spy on Mistress Elizabeth at her wedding, as I recall."

"We weren't spying, Sebastian. I was merely doing my duty and checking on her. I may have made the choice to give her up and relinquish my guardianship, but she is still my cousin and I feel obligated to make certain she is as happy as she can be given my absence and especially after the death of her family."

"And for the last twenty years, you felt you were no longer obligated?"

"Dammit, Sebastian, I didn't know it had been twenty years!"

"My apologies, master. If it please you, I can fill you in on the time you lost while you were in the Void..."

"You continued to watch her, Sebastian?" Ciel was very nearly at a loss for words. That he'd lost track of so many years baffled him, but that his butler had not and even continued his own obligations without his knowledge surely shouldn't have surprised him. But for some reason, it did, and he was both relieved and upset about this new discovery.

"She remained childless throughout her marriage. Her husband was doting and gave her every material possession she desired; but he, being much older than she and, quite frankly, not particularly interested in what Mistress Elizabeth could provide, looked on her more as a daughter and rarely bedded her. He kept a string of lovers all over London and when Mistress Elizabeth found out, she felt she had failed as a wife. She was twenty-five when she suffered a terrible miscarriage and the doctor told her she'd never bear a child."

Ciel's face was slack, his mouth slightly agape. He remembered suddenly the tale Sebastian had woven some time ago about his own chance at love that had ultimately ended in disaster and grief. At the end of that tale, Sebastian had asked him a question and he had thought long and hard about the answer. What will you do about Mistress Elizabeth, knowing how my tale has ended?

He had slept on it. He had envisioned bringing Lizzie to the Void but knew that the monochrome reality would drive her mad. He lacked the power to transform her mentally or physically and he knew that he would never appear to be more than a thirteen year old boy. She would age unless he ordered Sebastian to make her a demon and that existence in and of itself would surely kill her. He thought in the long run, that taking the road Sebastian had not, would certainly be the best course of action. He would be the smarter demon. He would give up his human life and the ties that bound him to it. He would not see the girl he'd been betrothed to tied to a monster for the rest of eternity. But he had tied her to a different sort of monster, hadn't he?

"Master? Are you quite alright?"

Ciel shook his head to clear the cobwebs that muddled his brain. "I need to sit, Sebastian."

He started away, not waiting on the butler to follow, and made his way across the street to a park bench directly opposite where they had been standing. He turned and plopped down unceremoniously, his hand reflexively covering his eyepatch. The demon butler stood before him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

"What else? Sebastian, what else have I done to her?"

"My young master, you mustn't think like that. It will not do to get your hackles raised simply for trying to do right by the young lady. I know, whether you will admit it to yourself or not, that you loved the Mistress-perhaps not precisely the way she would have preferred-but you cared very deeply for her and you did what you felt was right concerning her wellbeing. In any case, I believe my story of Cybille DeMoreau did nothing short of sway your own decision about her. It's not always the best decision to hold onto the things one loves... But it's certainly not always the best decision not to, either."

Ciel glared up at the butler, his face etched in anger and pain. He had the saddest sort of queasiness roiling in his stomach. A feeling of guilt he was not accustomed to experiencing. He had watched his childhood sweetheart-his fiancee-married off to a buggerer of boys and one three-times her age! He had never suspected! The man was kind to her, at least, he consoled himself... But to be married off and coddled like a child and never bear her own children to coddle and forget her situation... Ciel was physically sick. Had it been anyone but his Lizzie... Any other woman in the world and he wouldn't give a damn. But his Lizzie, she'd deserved better. And knowing what he knew now, he would've chanced the Void because he knew he, at least, would have given her children to take her mind off the dullness of her surroundings. But then, maybe he was getting ahead of himself... How does a perpetually thirteen year-old boy demon marry and make children when he himself would always remain a child?

"Would you like to go see her, Master?"

"I... I do not know, Sebastian. I feel I must. But to see her now... knowing this... I do not think I can keep the truth from her any longer."


	2. Chapter 2

**I've decided since my first chapter was... well, it was weak, dammit-I've decided to go ahead and post Chapter 2 before schedule. I plan to post a chapter a week, and I've spent my entire vacation writing, so don't worry. It gets better as we go along ;)**

Chapter Two

Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford dropped her married name when her husband passed away. With a name like Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford, van Regenbogen was just too much. She had happily taken over the Funtom Company that had belonged to her beloved cousin and used that to fill her time both during her marriage and after the death of her doting husband. She couldn't bring herself to hate the man, no matter how hard she had once tried. He had been good to her, after all, even if she hadn't been the sort of spouse he had desired. Perhaps it was poor planning on her mother's part, to break the betrothal to Ciel even if she couldn't have him, and force her to marry that old man that would have preferred a boy her age, and not a beautiful young woman with excessively cute tastes.

Truth be told, her tastes had long since matured, and even in her forties, she was a gorgeous woman with smooth features and bouncy blonde curls. And not a day went by that she didn't close her eyes and dream of being a child again with the love of her life. Oh, how he had spoiled her. And had he ever realized it? She knew that something supernatural had torn him from her side and she'd long believed Sebastian had been at the heart of that-though she held no ill will for the butler, because she never really could hold anyone at fault for long. She had glimpsed them on her wedding day, and at the time, had blamed it on her nerves; because her beautiful Ciel was still a boy of thirteen and his butler had not changed a bit, either. But over the years, she continued to spy Sebastian, out of the corner of her eye; while she was shopping, or leaving the storefront of the Funtom Company, or even once, as she cried herself to sleep one night, a shimmering black apparition that soothed her hair and whispered_ Shhhh, Darling... Lovely young ladies mustn't cry themselves to sleep. You shall wake up in the morning with a swollen nose and squinty eyes and be quite monstrous._ She had thought it was a dream. She had turned to the shimmering blackness and buried her face in it and slept, smelling the memories of the Phantomhive Manor and her beloved Ciel; and when she'd awoken, it had been a dream, but for the lingering scent on her sheets.

Yet here she was, an old woman at forty-five, though most people accused her of being thirty, childless but for her loyal customers, and alone, but for her dreams of the past. She'd given her husband's mansion to his longtime lover, deeding it over to the man in a desperate attempt to forget that part of her life. She retained the deeds to her own family's property but rarely went there, for it made her apathetic, and she detested that emotion. She would sometimes find herself at the old Phantomhive Estate, with no recollection of how she had arrived, and she would visit with the servants that she had loved so dearly in her childhood; though Tanaka had passed away years before, and the others had lost some of their joviality with him. And waiting so many years for their master to reappear had taken its toll on all of them.

Elizabeth maintained a townhouse on posh Upper Brook Street now, a scant block from the park where Ciel had taken a seat on the bench to clear his mind, and where Sebastian stood before him, understanding all too clearly the pain his young master was going through at that particular point in time.

Without preamble and never questioning his master's intentions on revealing the truth to his former fiancée, Sebastian reached out his hand to help the boy to his feet. It was swatted away and Ciel stood, straightening his cropped jacket and tapping the point of his cane on the sidewalk. "This way, my young Master," Sebastian drawled, turning and leading the boy east to Elizabeth's door.

"What does she look like?" the boy asked, keeping pace with the longer-legged demon easily. "What do I expect after all these years?"

"She is still your Lizzie, I assure you. She may not be the overly-adorable young lady you remember-she has thankfully outgrown her distasteful exuberance for all things 'cute'-but she looks very much the same, or rather, very much like her mother."

Ciel grumbled about that under his breath, but did not elaborate to the butler what he remembered of his Aunt, Lizzie's mother. She had been a handsome woman, but strict and brutish, and his comments on such were what led Lizzie to be the bubbly cute girl she had been, in a desire to not turn Ciel away from her because of his impression of her mother. In truth, Elizabeth Middleford had been an intimidating personality with a deadly specialty in swordsmanship, but she had forced her true nature aside and striven to be what she thought Ciel found ideal in a young lady. She had, in fact, nearly driven him mad with her obsessive behavior and love of all things cute, but as hindsight was indeed 20/20, he found he had loved her more than he would have ever cared to admit.

Their plans for the British Museum now put on hold, Sebastian led the way to the front step of the Middleford townhouse, and glancing over his shoulder at his young charge to assess his readiness, reached out and grasped the ornate door-knocker and let it fall with a resounding crack. While there had been a lovely sound emanating from the front parlor-a lilting concerto on an antique piano-it suddenly fell flat, and then a moment of silence before the shuffling of stockinged feet made their way to the door.

Ciel's heart was in his throat and he couldn't even see the door through Sebastian's black-clad frame. He suddenly doubted his hasty conviction to see Elizabeth and his fantasy about telling her the truth. What would she think? Say? How could she possibly believe him? Or rather, how could she not, seeing him here, still a child, some thirty years after they had parted. He remembered abruptly the last time they had danced, and how unabashedly happy she had been; that he had sauntered down the stairs of the Phantomhive manor and whisked her off her feet as she had longed for her entire life. He had just been changed... He hadn't felt himself. He had felt daring and damned the consequences and if he hadn't been quite so young, or naive, he would have kissed her and watched her melt against him and for the first time in his life, his cockiness would have meant something because he would have held the evidence in his embrace. But they'd danced and whirled and she'd laughed and cried, because she knew something was not right; that this wasn't her Ciel and she was ashamed that part of her didn't care. This was the Ciel she longed for. And she'd had him one night. And then he was gone.

The door eased open, the creaking hinges breaking him out of his reverie, and a beautiful woman that did look somewhat like his late Aunt, peered out at the tall man in the entrance. Her hair hanging in honeyed curls over one shoulder, her green eyes huge and bright and ever-so-slightly lined at the corners, and her full mouth creased in sadness and gaping just a bit at the sight before her, Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford-formerly Lady van Regenbogen-appeared to be torn somewhere between laughter and hysterical sobbing. Her green eyes were glistening like wet glass and she chewed at her lower lip frantically, staring at this apparition from her past.

She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her, Sebastian thought, other than the smile lines at the corners of her eyes were slightly deeper and she looked as though she might be happier than the last time he'd spied her through the window of her parlor. She'd been crying then and he'd forced himself to walk away because he suspected she wouldn't believe he'd been a dream like the time before. She hadn't spoken a word yet, and though she hadn't seen Ciel yet, either, he was concentrating very hard just to remain in place behind the butler. Every fiber of his being told him to turn and flee and yet his soles remained rooted to the stone floor beneath him, his eyes trained to the seam of Sebastian's jacket between his shoulder blades.

"Mistress Elizabeth," Sebastian started, nodding politely to the woman before him. She seemed incapable of blinking. Or speaking. She opened the door fully, finally, and reached out, brushing her fingers against the fabric of his coat; fingers curling and tugging lightly at his lapel. She continued to stare directly at him and it didn't take long for her to brush the tears from her eyes and launch herself at the butler, wrapping him a painful embrace. Of course, that meant her eyes leveled over his shoulder and there stood her Ciel. His wide-eyed stare beneath his mop of dark hair, studying her with fascination and his own mouth slightly agape; neither one of them knew what to say-what would happen if either of them tried to speak.

The breath escaped her when she clapped eyes on the earl behind Sebastian, exactly as she remembered him some thirty years ago, down to the Victorian style of his suit and the leather eyepatch hugging his beautiful face. She was suddenly transported back in time, her laughter ringing through the marble foyer of the Phantomhive Estate as he held her against him and spun and spun and made her dizzy with his spinning. That was the last time she'd seen him, before Paula came and took her home and she remembered feeling very much the same as she did at that moment, during that carriage ride home; hurt and giddy, filled with incomprehensible emotions that made her heart swell and ache and at fourteen other things were beginning to ache for her beautiful earl and she was just beginning to understand those aches when he was torn from her. Oh, she had closed her eyes and imagined him, growing taller, older with her; had desperately tried to imagine it was Ciel that had climbed atop her on her wedding night and that had been the only thing that kept her cries of pain at bay. It had not happened frequently after her wedding night, but when her husband was good and drunk and could pretend she was a boy, and he'd climb atop her again, she'd bury her face in the satin coverlets and pray that she was dreaming; or better yet, that the thick bulbous frame that pressed against her back was Ciel, grown and tall and lean and beautiful, his dark hair hanging in his cherubic face and his eyes closed in pleasure and she found if she did that, she could even find satisfaction for herself in her husband's bed.

When she had confessed as much to Paula, who remained her ever-faithful servant and confidante, she had to repress her giggles and informed the young Lady van Regenbogen that she was indeed not alone in her daydreams. There were quite a few women who had to pretend in their husbands' beds because rarely were young ladies married off to the man they found ideal in their hearts. Ciel would have made her the perfect husband, Paula had said, but it was such a pity that he had disappeared with that devilishly handsome butler of his-which had brought on a new fit of giggles that Paula couldn't seem to repress and while Elizabeth knew better, it pained her heart nonetheless.

As it happened, Elizabeth was hanging over Sebastian's shoulder, caught between fight and flight, for while she had always suspected the butler of being something more than human, she had never in a thousand years believed she would see her darling Ciel again-and most certainly, not precisely as she had seem him on the night he'd left. "No...nooooooooooooooooo..." she breathed, straightening herself from Sebastian's loose embrace and stepping around him to face the young Earl Phantomhive. "Ciel..." and it seemed that was all she would say for a while, her thoughts a tumultuous storm raging on her alabaster face.

She knelt before him, which made Ciel faintly uncomfortable, but seeing this current predicament was completely his own doing, he stayed; squared his shoulders and tapped his cane against the stone and leveled his gaze at her own, silent and stoic, awaiting her assessment. He was glad on some level she had not adopted the popular dress of the other women in London. She was clad in a loose, flowing skirt with a tiny jeweled belt and her blouse was modestly buttoned and her hair falling around her like a golden waterfall. Ciel found himself leaning a tiny bit closer, inhaling the scent of lavender and maybe vanilla-wafting from her tresses like incense from a burner. Yes, he decided, she was still lovely. Lovelier really than she ever had been. It was a pity he was trapped in the body of a thirteen year old boy when his mind could rage with the thoughts and desires of a grown man.

It was many moments later when she breathed his name again, a litany upon the full lips of a beautiful woman, older than she looked, but then so was he. Ironic that, he thought, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and growing bolder, reached out to cup a handful of her curls and pull them to his face, the better to smell them. He wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him in that moment, but Sebastian smiled his crooked mysterious smile and Lizzie's eyes welled up with tears again and he suddenly realized he would have to be the adult now.

"Elizabeth-"

"Lizzie," she chirped and then, blushing, "I'm sorry. I've forgotten myself. Can that be you, Ciel? Truly?"

He cleared his throat and dropped the handful of molten gold from his grasp, placing his hand back on the handle of his cane. "It is me, Lizzie. And I think I have missed you."

_**Regenbogen is a German surname meaning 'Rainbow'. I thought it fitting ;p**_

_**Also, if I have offended anyone reading this with my "buggerer of boys" comment, I assure you, it was unintended. I have no personal issues with alternative lifestyles. I am completely indifferent toward them as a whole. But this (among other things) was a common occurrence with arranged marriages back in the day. And as Sebastian and Ciel speak in a Victorian dialect, this would have been the terminology used.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Here be Chapter Three! I'm still hoping to post a chapter a week. Reviews are appreciated! I'll take anything you have to say! Positive, negative, don't care. Thank you for those who have followed/favorited so far!_**  
**_I do not own Black Butler or its characters_**.

The front parlor of Elizabeth's townhouse was bright and cheerful,but thankfully devoid of anything pink. The wallpaper was a lovely yellow damask and the furniture white-washed wicker with plush floral cushions. The Baby Grand piano sat in the corner, white like the rest, and Ciel was at that moment staring so intently at the finish, Sebastian was afraid he may scorch the paint with his scowl.

Paula was out to visit a friend and so, Elizabeth, being the bred hostess that she was, was bustling about in the kitchen, preparing tea. She had flatly refused Sebastian's help, happy to do this on her own. She emerged some time later with a silver tray and porcelain tea service, her face alight with all the giddiness she had been filled with as a child.

She happily poured and distributed the tea, then took a seat on a chaise lounge opposite the brooding pair and smiled at them in turn, then lifted her cup to her lips.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about the last thirty years?" Ciel broke the silence. "Lizzie, I sit before you now exactly the same as I left you all those years ago. Do not look so pleased. It..." he trailed off and shook his head. "It confuses me when you do this. It always has."

Sebastian's gaze drifted between the two of them, then stood abruptly, causing Elizabeth to jump in her seat. "Are you quite alright? Can I get you something?" she asked politely, making to stand herself.

"No, Madam. I am only going to step outside for a moment. I believe the two of you need some space to get reacquainted. I will be available if you have questions," he stated, then bowing to Lizzie, he excused himself. He would wait in the kitchen, he'd decided. Ciel's tale shouldn't take terribly long and they could be on their way.

Back in the parlor, Ciel's gaze had turned back to the white piano and Lizzie twirled her tea cup in her hands, waiting on him to break the silence again. "Elizabeth... Lizzie. The last three decades have been... well, honestly, quite dull. I left this Surface world with the memories you gave me; with the adventures that Sebastian and I had... and the next thirty years were spent with my nose in a book, drinking from empty cups and eating from empty plates."

"Where have you been all this time?" She leaned forward and sat her cup on its saucer, then folded her hands primly in her lap and waited.

"The Void. The Netherworld. Tartarus. Whatever you call it, it is a World of Nothing. It is dull and gray. And while everything I was surrounded by there were perfect copies of my world here, they lacked the color and vibrance of this Surface. I had Sebastian. That was all. Just the two of us in a mockery of my home, ensconced in plush fraudulence."

Elizabeth shook her head slightly, leaning forward on the chaise and Ciel noted that her hands were no longer folded, but gripping her knees beneath the fabric of her skirt. He knew she couldn't reply to what he'd just said, so waiting for a response was a moot point. He decided it was then or never and launched into the story he'd come here to tell.

"Do you remember when we hunted for the white stag?"

She nodded quickly but didn't say anything.

"You recall that you were told I'd lost my memories. Well, I've recovered them. This is a poor place to start. Let me start at the beginning. When Mother and Father were burned to death in the Phantomhive Manor..."

And so he told his tale, beginning with summoning a demon to exact revenge on his parents' murderer, and glancing over minor details and cases that had nothing to do with the search for Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive's killer. She was noticeably non-nonplussed at that point and it made him wonder just what she had figured out on her own. He explained the nature of Demons and Reapers; the wild moments of nemesis/partner they had shared with Grell Sutcliff. The battle with the angel-puppet of the Queen, the demon hound Pluto, the subsequent burning of the entire city was touched on with limited specifics; he was, after all, trying to make his tale as brief as possible. Eventually, he came to the Trancy fiasco, going into a little more detail here because it was imperative she understand the levity of the situation. Alois Trancy and his demon butler Claude Faustus were, after all, precisely how he found himself in his current predicament. With Sebastian unable to consume his soul, and permanently bound to him in contract, they were, for better or for worse, inseparable now. Whatever either one of them did, the other was a part of-it was lucky they had discovered a way they could feed, for in the beginning, Sebastian feared he would never taste a soul again, and Ciel, newly borne of the Netherworld, would be fodder for the stronger demons if Sebastian was starving, for though he wouldn't die-not per se-a starving demon was nothing if not the bottom of the food chain. Even a demon as powerful and ruthless as Sebastian would eventually be consumed by something even stronger and darker than himself.

Ciel broke off his story for a moment to study Elizabeth's reactions. She clutched at the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles white with the strain of it; her lower lip was drawn into her mouth and she chewed at it frantically, but she had not uttered a single word to interrupt him, save for the occasional gasp. Quite honestly, he was impressed by her captiveness because when she was a child, she simply did not possess the ability to remain silent.

"Lizzie... do you understand what I'm telling you? Do you comprehend what it's like for me to be trapped in this thirteen year old body when my mind is the same age as yours? I am a demon, my Lizzie. And, though no fault of my own, I feel responsible for your happiness-or lack thereof-over the last thirty years. Please, tell me what I can do to make up for leaving you. Tell me what I owe you for abandoning you all those years ago..." Ciel didn't think he'd ever sounded quite so desperate. But in truth, he was desperate. He had a choking need to correct this wrong he had inadvertently created.

"Oh, Ciel... My darling Ciel..." Lizzie whispered, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. "You haven't committed any wrong against me!" She stood from the chaise and circumvented the table between them, kneeling at the boy's feet. Grasping his small hands in her own, she kissed them, pressed her tear-streaked face to them, and Ciel suspected he felt his heart-break just a bit. "Ciel, you've done nothing wrong," she said again, in a whisper. "You treated me well all those years ago when we were children and though I knew you didn't love me the way I wanted you to, you were prepared to be my husband and protector. You were always kind to me, you indulged me far too much-I was terribly spoiled!" She lifted her shining green eyes to his finally, and took a steadying breath. "If not for that last dance-that last night you gave me-I would never have made it through my marriage to Regenbogen. I would have surely suffered more if not for the memories you left me. I've carried you in my heart my whole life, Ciel. I've loved you since the day you were born. It matters not that you are a demon, or that Sebastian is a demon, or that you will never be anything more or less than what you are right now. You have always been my Ciel."

"Lizzie..." he breathed, though he wasn't positive if it had passed his lips or if he had imagined he said it. He wanted so badly at that moment to push her away-she was the eternal chink in his armor-because if he didn't push her away, he would grow ever more attached. He was a hairsbreadth from her lips and he knew he shouldn't, but she wasn't going to stop him, he realized and he could taste the honey from her tea on her breath...

"Master?"

Oh, thank God for Sebastian, ironic as it were. It was as if he was testing Ciel's boundaries, and finally finding them lacking, appeared from the kitchen to stop what was certainly about to be an absolute debacle.

Elizabeth launched to her feet so suddenly, Ciel actually jumped. What the hell were we thinking? he asked himself, standing and brushing the wrinkles from his waistcoat. "Sebastian, the Museum? I believe my... confession is complete."

"Indeed, sir. The Museum. Would the Lady Elizabeth care to join us?" he smirked, turning an accusatory glare on the middle-aged woman. She had the good sense to blush.

"NO!" They both barked, and Sebastian had to bite back a laugh. They were both ashamed of what had nearly transpired between them, he knew, though in all honesty, he didn't find it that deplorable. In truth, Ciel was a grown man, he only appeared to be thirteen. And Elizabeth was startlingly beautiful for a woman of forty-five. And they had been betrothed... he supposed he could see the damage it would cause had anyone else seen what was about to happen. But he wouldn't fault his master for his lapse in judgment. He would tease him for it, though.

"Let me get your hats and coats," Elizabeth muttered, making her way to the closet in the foyer, the two demons close at her heels. "Please, both of you, come back to visit," she said. "It was frightening to see you at first, so unchanged, but I've missed you both more than you could know. And we all have so much catching up to do."

"Indeed, my lady," Sebastian replied, taking the young master's coat and draping it over his small squared shoulders. His own followed and then both hats and Ciel's cane. Sebastian took Elizabeth's hand and placed a gallant kiss to the back of her knuckles, then bowing, exited, leaving Ciel standing alone, again, with his Achilles' Heel.

"Elizabeth." He nodded curtly and turned to leave, but felt a small hand grasp his shoulder as he turned.

"Ciel..." she whispered, leaning down, and he panicked for a moment because he had no idea what was going through her mind. "I am serious. Come back. Tell me more about ...everything. I want us to be friends again." She leaned further and pressed a kiss to his forehead-a motherly kiss, he decided-and folded her arms over her chest as she watched him walk out her door.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Thank you all who have favorited/added me and my story(ies)! There is no bigger honor than to know that my work is appreciated. That being said, REVIEW PLEASE! I'm somewhat of a review fanatic and thus far, I have been sorely disappointed with the lack of criticism (favorable or otherwise) that I have received! Trust me, I don't even care if it's an anonymous review! I needs them_** **.******

_**I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji or it's characters. I'm merely taking them for a stroll and will return them once the ransom is paid... I mean, once I'm finished.**_

It was a leisurely walk from Elizabeth's home to the British Museum, in a nearly straight line, and it loomed before them now, a huge ornate edifice with marble columns and a steady trickle of humans in and out of the front door. Sebastian and Ciel made their way up the walk and through the doors, into the open front foyer of the museum's main hall.

Ciel didn't wait for Sebastian but immediately began to sidle through the spectators, making his way directly to the Egyptian exhibit; through one giant marble arch and down a hallway filled with humans, into a huge alcove near the back, full with glass display cases, many of them upright with sarcophagi inside, some with only artifacts on layered glass shelves. Sebastian felt a sudden sense of nostalgia in this room; many of these things he may have touched, or seen, when he was in Egypt all those millenia ago. Ciel was going methodically from case to case-examining a display of Canopic jars in one, a pair of busts draped with the roughly-milled jewelery of Ancient Egypt, large smooth stones set in gold with panels of lesser gemstones set around them. One collar of crushed turquoise and carnelian seemed to have captured his attention, and Sebastian stopped behind him and leaned in. The collar actually looked familiar to him, though he was sure there had been similar ones among all the nobles of Egypt. On one of the busts, a black wig rested atop its head, banded with gold and braided in thousands of tiny braids, the ends clasped each with a crushed bead of gold. That looked decidedly familiar, he thought, and a sort of grunt of amusement escaped his lips before he'd realized.

"What is it, Sebastian?"

"Oh, I'm certain it's nothing, my young master..."

"You've seen something. What is it you recognize? The necklace?"

"That does indeed strike a chord of memory within me, but it is actually the wig that I know. The collar style was quite popular at the time, crushing gemstones and polishing more precious gems and setting them in wide gold panels. But that wig..."

"The _wig_?"

"Yes, Master. It was common for the Ancient Egyptians to shave their heads and wear wigs. But I happened to know a priestess who wore one identical to the one on that bust. The braids were time consuming and the beads that held them together were particularly hard to come by. She had it commissioned by an artisan in her temple and it took him several months to complete it."

"How... mundane."

"You asked, my young lord." With that, Sebastian broke away, walking over to one long case low to the floor where the mummy of man lay. The plaque read "A Priest of Ra" and he ran his fingers along the top of the glass, wondering at the size of this mummy. He was large, and considering he had most certainly _shrank_ after over a millennium in the sands of Egypt, he was still easily six-and-a-half feet tall, broad at the shoulder, with huge hands grasping some sort of shimmering obsidian tablet. Sebastian's forehead furrowed and he searched his memory for the name of this man... As a priest of Ra, if that was what he had indeed been, it was possible his tomb held no record of his name. But he was certain he had known him..._ Too many memories_, he thought, and pressed the matter from his mind. He and Ciel were practically alone in the exhibit; there was a couple on the opposite end of the alcove, staring mutely at a female mummy in an upright case, a long staff clasped in her hands.

_A long staff?_ Sebastian shuffled toward the display, and made polite eye contact with the couple. The man nodded gruffly and the young woman blushed and averted her eyes, and the man grasped her elbow and hurried her off toward the main hall. Sebastian watched their backs for a moment as they retreated, the woman throwing a few short glances over her shoulder back at him, and he smiled his most provocative smile and even waved as her significant other practically dragged her away.

Sebastian turned his gaze on the poor creature in the glass case before him, taking in the familiar sight of the gold-plated bow staff clutched against her chest. Her linens were ragged and he could see the faint outline of an ankh through the layers at her waist. He examined her more closely, or rather what he could see of her through her wrappings, noticing here and there jewelry that she had been entombed with. The ankh was the centerpiece of a wide jeweled belt, there were curious bumps on either side of her head as if she were wearing earrings, and there was distinctly a necklace draped around her slender neck. It was on a thin gold chain, a small obelisk-shaped pendant of stone... so old he could no longer tell the color of the stone. But he _knew_ that necklace. He knew it as he knew the pentagram on the back of his hand. And that meant he knew _her_. "Menefer...?"

"Did you say something, Sebastian?" Ciel asked, appearing suddenly behind him, hands clasped listlessly onto his cane. He was settled now; happier than he had been moments before, as if this exhibit had the power to calm his soul.

"I... did," Sebastian started, and Ciel began to study the mummy in the case before them. "May I present to you Priestess Menefer, lady in waiting to the goddess Isis, warrior of the Temple of Isis, known to the nobility at the time as the Sacred Heart of Maat-the goddess of justice."

Ciel's head bowed for a moment, then he leveled his gaze at his butler, tapping his cane lightly on the tile and said, "You jest."

"I assure you, my lord, I do not. I know it is her. She wears a pendant that I recognize. That I _gave_ her. It is her, as surely as I stand before you now."

There was a flicker of movement suddenly and Ciel turned toward the case again. Finding nothing amiss, he looked back to his butler whose own gaze had been drawn to the priestess, except his brow was furrowed as if he had seen something awry. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yes, my master. Only, I thought I'd seen-"

There it was again. Some breath of motion from within the case, as if the mummy's linens had whispered in an unseen breeze. Ciel's head whipped back around to the case, and Sebastian automatically pressed him back from the display a meter or so, just behind him. "What in the hell is going on, Sebastian?" Ciel demanded.

"I'm not entirely sure, Master. But I have an inkling and it's not a particularly good one..."

They stood there, in that defensive pose, for several moments, waiting on that curious movement to happen again. There was nothing. Another couple came into the exhibit and they were forced to dismiss their absurd stance, but stayed a meter away from the case and watched it as though it was the most interesting thing either of them had ever seen. The couple meandered through the exhibit and with polite nods to both as they exited, the two stepped closer to the case again, eyes straining for that breath of motion on the mummified priestess before them.  
As Sebastian neared her, they saw it again, but much more distinctly-a skeletal finger on that golden bow staff actually twitched and Ciel had to bite back a startled gasp. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen some terrifying things in his life, but a _mummy_... Surely there was a logical explanation! Sebastian, growing bolder, placed his gloved hand directly on the glass and whispered to her, "Menefer... Can it be?" and Ciel looked at him, eye wide with trepidation.

"Are you _mad_?" he seethed, still a half step behind the larger demon.

"Menefer," he whispered again, ignoring the earl, "It is me, Marcus Brutus-"

"Stop _encouraging_ her!"Ciel spat, then realized exactly how absurd it sounded. "I-Sebastian, what the _hell_ are you _doing_?"

"Are you frightened, my young master?" he teased, hand still pressed against the glass but attention now averted to the smaller demon. Thankfully, the exhibit didn't prove to be very popular and they remained undisturbed. "Even if she was cognizant, even if she moved or came back by way of some magic or curse, she is a corpse now, Master, and very unlikely to possess the ability to harm you or anyone else..." he trailed off when he saw the little color Ciel had drain from his face completely. The child demon's gaze was locked on the display case and he looked as though he would bolt at any given moment. Slowly, the butler turned back to the case, not knowing what to expect, but to his delight-and it was slightly terrifying-he found she had moved quite a bit. Her hand was pressed to the inside of the case against his own. He smiled up at her, though her face was completely wrapped in linens. "There's my girl."

"What are you doing, Sebastian?" Ciel's strained whisper was so sharp, it echoed around them, bouncing off the glass display cases and marble walls.

"Careful, my young lord, lest we draw a crowd..."

Ciel spat something under his breath, then spun on his heel and walked toward the main entryway, cane in one hand like a club, hat in the other, clutched so tightly he'd ruined the brim; peering around the column there, he spied for any oncoming observers. "Just do it. Whatever you have planned. No one's coming right now."

"What ever do you mean, what I have planned?" Sebastian asked innocently, but Ciel heard the faintest sound of breaking glass behind him and he refused to turn and witness whatever atrocity his butler was committing at that moment. "I promise you, Master, I did not plan any of this. The trip to the museum and your recent obsession with all things Egyptian was your own doing. I assure you, I had no way of knowing I'd happen upon an old friend," he replied, his face alight with his usual suave grin.

Ciel hmphed and tapped his cane suddenly. "There's a woman coming, Sebastian. Hurry."

There was another muted sound of breaking glass, then the rustling of parchment linens and in the silence that followed, the strangest sound Ciel had ever heard-a screeching cry, a rattling dry sob that seemed to travel up his spine and race along every nerve ending in his body-and he knew it came from that creature. The woman had been distracted by another patron, and Ciel turned finally, rushing to his butler who was holding the creature's face between his palms and speaking softly in some language Ciel had never heard before-he assumed Ancient Egyptian-and the creature grasped Sebastian's hands suddenly, another hideous sob rattling the skeletal frame wrapped in linens. "We need to leave. _Now_, Sebastian-" he raced by them, toward another alcove and, finding it empty with a set of French doors leading out to a terraced garden, he waved to the butler, then stepped out into the brightness.

He heard the sound of dragging on the marble behind him and wondered if that thing was unable to walk. He suddenly wondered if she could even move her limbs-how long had she been immobile, her skin turned to leather, wrapped in treated bandages, entombed like a bug in a drop of amber. He glanced back, just as someone entered the exhibit and screamed, and Sebastian was already on him, the mummy more limber than he'd imagined-and somehow, fuller than he remembered just moments ago... Sebastian had her by the hand and the demon and the mummy exploded past the young earl, the demon grabbing the back of the boy's collar and pushing him straight out in front. "_Now_, Master."

It was an awkward run, the larger demon leading the way, each hand grasping the wrist of another party that just couldn't seem to keep up with him. They bounded through the gardens and mercifully, they were quick to reach the enclosing wall and Sebastian practically tossed Ciel over the low stone structure. The mummy was next, landing in a heap next to the earl, and Ciel himself nearly cried out when her bandaged face suddenly appeared before him and that weird screech escaped her throat again. On the other side of the wall, there was a cacophony of shrill whistles from the authorities and a chorus of "Stop!"s and "Halt!"s. Then the butler appeared on the wall, then he was on the ground in a blink and grasping the earl and the mummy by their elbows and hustling them to their feet and pushing them out from the wall. A few steps out, he seemed to falter, but he was merely trying to shrug out of his long black coat and once accomplished, he swung the fabric over the mummy and continued dragging his charges in their escape.

They dashed through the surrounding park with little effort, emerging at Gower Street and heading due west, and eventually were parallel with Oxford which would take them as close as four blocks from Elizabeth's on Upper Brook. Once they made Oxford, they slowed, trying to look as leisurely as possible. Sebastian's coat was long enough to hide much of the mummy, and to Ciel's utter amazement, she appeared to fill out more and more with each block. Sebastian either didn't notice, or, more likely, knew and didn't feel the need to explain the why of it to the earl. He kept her shielded under his arm, pulled tightly to his side and hoped that no one would notice the bandage-covered feet peeking out from beneath the hem. Every so often, she would make that eerie sound, and Ciel decided it might be her lungs trying to work again, so he resolved himself to not be frightened of her any longer. If Sebastian could cradle her like a child against him and have no inkling of fear, then surely he could as he walked on the other side of the larger demon.

"Where are we going, Sebastian?" he asked finally, and the butler angled his head down with a smile.

"Mistress Elizabeth's, for now..."

"Absolutely not!" the boy barked but immediately cowered behind Sebastian's arm when the mummy's bandaged head swung around and he could feel her glare beneath the linens. "Why?" he asked more calmly, resisting the urge to childishly poke his tongue out at the creature.

"She knows what we are, does she not? It shouldn't be terribly strange to meet a mummy, now, would it? She's a level-headed woman... now. It is close and private, and we can discuss our options once we're there."

"Options. Hmph. You didn't give me an option before you broke a display case at the museum and _stole_ a _mummy_!"

"Actually, my young master, the lady broke the case, initially. I didn't have much of an option myself, rather than help her escape. She certainly couldn't remain there-not in her current... condition."

"And what precisely is her condition?" the boy asked sharply, glancing again at the thing tucked against his butler. Again, he thought, she was definitely fuller, her bandages even beginning to break and he could tell she had a mop of black hair on her head now.

"Of that, I am not certain myself. She appears to be regenerating as we speak. But I'm not sure why... It could be any number of things, my master. Another reason to rest at Mistress Elizabeth's and gather our bearings."

Ciel's gloved hand went to his face and he massaged his temples as they walked, knowing he had no choice but to go along with Sebastian's "plan".

It took nearly forty minutes, but soon they were standing before the townhouse again, and the lilting music from Elizabeth's piano playing was wafting out the open front window of her parlor. Ciel hesitated, but then climbed the steps to her door; Sebastian still cradled the mummy against his side, but her attention was obviously on the piano. Her linen-covered head-now with the curliest black hair flowing from the gaps in the bandages-was tilting to and fro, trying to hear the sound of the music better. She tilted her face to Sebastian's after several moments and he smiled at her. Ciel heard him mutter something in that ancient language again as he lifted the door knocker.

The piano chords fell flat-and the mummy made that freakish noise again-and there was the patter of Lizzie's stockinged feet again, and the door creaking open. "Ciel? Is something the matter?"

"You could say that..."


	5. Chapter 5

**_I don't own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, its characters, or plot references herein. I am not making any money off of this project (or any other project in my life .)_**

**_Please send me some reviews, people! I don't care if they're anonymous or what! I have a fever and the only cure is more reviews!_**

With no questions asked, Elizabeth ushered the three inside and sent them to the parlor while she shut and bolted the door. Once inside, Ciel turned to her and started, "Lizzie, my deepest apologies, but-"

"For what, Ciel? You are obviously in some sort of predicament. If I couldn't help you, what kind of friend would I be?"

"Right, so," Sebastian declared, helping the mummified priestess out of his coat. "Mistress Elizabeth, would you mind so terribly closing that window, lest some passersby hear the tale we are about to relate?"

"Of course!" and she rushed around them, dragging the heavy pane-glass window down and drawing the curtains closed once more.

It was on her return trip around them that she apparently noticed the mummy for what she was and to her credit, she did not screech. Her hands went straight over her own mouth and with a terrified gasp, she threw herself against the far wall next to the piano. Her green eyes were three times their normal size and every speck of color in her face had drained away, leaving her as if she'd seen a ghost. Which, in retrospect, she _had_, Ciel thought, reaching out and easing her over to the settee and gently pushing her down to sit. "Lizzie... this is...?" he glanced desperately at the butler, "_name_?"

"_Menefer_, my lord. Her name is Menefer. She was... is I suppose, a priestess..."

"Priestess?" Elizabeth whispered, her hand finally coming away from her face. "She's a ...a ..._mummy_!"

"That, too... But knowing that she cannot hurt you surely must be some comfort, yes?" the demon butler pressed, and turning to the mummy, reached out and placed his hands on either side of her face again. That face was finally complete beneath the bandages, Ciel saw with amazement, though it startled him to see Sebastian so casually take those bandages in his fingers and begin to peel them away.

He wondered for a brief second if she would allow him to, her hands coming up and grasping his wrists for a moment; but he whispered something to her in that ancient tongue again and Ciel saw her shoulders visibly relax and wondered again at the cause of her regeneration. Her hands dropped by her sides again, and Sebastian continued, a glorious mop of coal-black curls emerging first and spilling over her shoulders and torso, dusty from the linen, and hanging nearly to her hips.

Ciel sat beside Elizabeth on the narrow settee, both of them riveted to the scene before them, as Sebastian carefully unbound the woman in front of him. Ciel realized with a start, that not only had the mummy filled out, she had also grown taller. She was a startlingly tall woman, in fact, only a few inches shy of Sebastian's six-foot-plus. The two held their breath as they waited for her face to be revealed, and Ciel began to recount the events that transpired at the museum for Elizabeth, as Sebastian worked with the bandages.

Her forehead was tall and unblemished, her skin just shy of brown-a caramel complexion, earth-toned and deep even though she hadn't seen the sun in thousands of years. Two perfectly arched brows appeared, then Sebastian's angle changed and Elizabeth and Ciel lost their view. Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Mistress Elizabeth. Would you, by chance, have a dressing gown or the like for my lady to borrow?"

"Of... of course, Sebastian..." she stammered and then, raising very slowly from the settee with her head cocked to try and see the mummy, she moved toward the parlor door and finally up the stairs to her rooms.

Sebastian continued his unwrapping, and Ciel could see him arranging the woman's hair for maximum modesty, but he couldn't see what was unfolding before the older demon; only strips of dried linen dropping to the polished wood floor beneath them, sand and dust falling free and littering the thick Aubusson carpet there. That strange tongue was spoken again between them, and Ciel did catch his and Elizabeth's names being uttered in Sebastian's sentences. Moments later, Elizabeth reemerged, a white cotton gown draped over her arm and startled gasp escaped her when she saw the woman Sebastian was unwrapping. She didn't say anything else, though, only draped the gown over the arm of the settee nearest the butler and the mummy-if she could still be called that-and reclaimed her seat next to Ciel.

He turned a curious gaze to the older woman, but she still didn't say what had made her gasp, only drew his hand into her lap and waited, her eyes trained on the back of the butler. He found himself squeezing her hand and leaning forward himself, waiting for this huge reveal.

Sebastian was working on her arms now; they stuck out straight on either side of him, the same caramel color and dripping with gold jewelery. Yellow, pink, and blue gold bangles on both her wrists jingled lightly as he moved around each arm; she wore several rings on both hands, and her left arm had a wide gold cuff just below her elbow and a narrow gold cuff shaped like a snake coiled around her arm just above her elbow. Suddenly, what sounded suspiciously like a giggle, erupted from the woman and Sebastian made a remark in her language that resembled a scolding. The giggling died and the hands were snatched in, all the gold jangling prettily at the movement.

Then, abruptly, Sebastian knelt, and the woman was plainly _there_ and _alive_ and covering her breasts with her folded arms and all the hair that flowed down around her body. Ciel lost his breath for a moment looking at her. She was exquisite. An exotic beauty like nothing he had ever seen. He remembered Cybille DeMoreau and how Sebastian had described her cafe au lait complexion and elegant features and he wondered if she was even as striking as this woman before him now. Cybille may have been the love of Sebastian's life, but did she compare to this beauty? And just what had Menefer been to Sebastian when he'd been in Egypt thousands of years ago? He'd called her a "friend". But Ciel had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't _all_ they had been.

He turned his eye back to his former fiancee. Elizabeth was gripping his hand so tightly, it would have been painful but for the fact that he was a demon. He gently cupped his other hand over the top of hers and she looked at him finally, wonder and absolute bewilderment etched across her pretty face. "I cannot comprehend it..." she breathed, turning her eyes back to the priestess, whose huge brown eyes were trained on the top of Sebastian's head.

He was to her hips and reluctant to begin that stretch of territory before she had on some semblance of clothing. He stood and snatched the gown from the arm of the settee and helped her wriggle into it, then free her mass of hair from it, and tugged at the seams till it fell against her body properly. She may have been the same size as Elizabeth, but she was decidedly taller, and the gown that touched Lizzie's toes only fell to the priestess' calves. She muttered something to Sebastian and he smiled up at her and nodded. "Mistress Elizabeth? Would you mind terribly preparing tea? My lady insists that she is famished."

Elizabeth stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt and folded her hands demurely in front of her. "I do not mind at all. However, I would appreciate it if you finished this... task... in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I feel very awkward indeed having it performed in my parlor. Though you may tell your lady that I have never seen a more beautiful woman in my life-" she glanced down at the earl- "and I doubt the Earl Phantomhive has, either."

"I shall relay your compliments, my lady. And we will retreat to a more private setting. I will clean up our mess here post haste, I assure you. And thank you, very much, Mistress Elizabeth." Sebastian graced her with a rare _genuine_ smile, and she nodded curtly, suddenly ashamed at the brash tone she had taken with him. She had found herself very self-conscious, at the deeds that she had allowed unabashedly in her parlor, and at her own appearance when faced with the exotic beauty of the woman they had brought from the museum. She made her way into the kitchen as Sebastian led the Egyptian upstairs to a guest room, and rummaging in the pantry, found what she needed to throw together an acceptable meal for her.

Moments later, she ascended the stairs with a tea service for one and a plate of finger sandwiches. Pausing to knock, she waited for Sebastian to call "enter" before she proceeded into the room. Menefer was perched on the edge of the high Victorian bed, the gown bundled up around her shapely thighs, and Sebastian knelt before her, finishing with the last of the bandages on her right foot.

The skeletal mummy Ciel had described from the museum was a luscious whole woman now, and she grasped the quartz pendant at her throat as if her life depended on it. And mayhaps, it _did_, Lizzie thought, bringing in the food and tea and pouring a cup for the woman. She eyed the sandwiches suspiciously and Lizzie picked one up and held it out to her. She glanced between Sebastian and the English woman, and Sebastian smiled and said something in her tongue, presumably assuring her that the food was safe. Gently, she took it from Lizzie's hand and held it to her nose, sniffing it; Lizzie tried not to be offended since she knew this was probably the first time Menefer had ever seen such food. She bit into just the corner of the bread and waited for several seconds before she began to chew. She soon decided she liked it, and practically shoveled the rest into her mouth before reaching for another.

"She'll need a bath. And I will try to find something more suitable for her to wear," Elizabeth said, turning to leave the room.

"Mistress Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Sebastian?"

"You have truly been a wondrous help to both my master and myself. I sincerely thank you."

"If it had been anyone else, Sebastian, I assure you, I would not." She smiled at him. "But I've always loved you both. You know that. I'll prepare a bath for ...Menefer. Paula will be home soon and I need to think of what to tell her. Perhaps that Ciel is a descendant of the Earl Phantomhive... I do not know. I'll think on it." With that, she left the room, Sebastian still kneeling on the floor and Menefer devouring her sandwiches and tea.

"What do we do with her, Sebastian?" Ciel asked from the doorway minutes later. "She cannot come to the Void when we return home, can she? Did you not tell me only humans and demons can go there, and humans not for long? She is certainly neither human nor demon... and we've yet to discover how she's healed so quickly."

"That being said, young master, we ourselves can only remain on the surface for so long... We need a contract or we'll have larger problems than the local authorities."

"What are you saying, Sebastian?"

"It means we have a week to secure a contract or we'll be hunted by far worse things than the London police."

"You said we can come and go from the Void as we pleased."

"And so we can, my young lord, but not indefinitely. We can walk the Surface for a few days, but we cannot remain here without a contract."

Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Then, I _order_ you to find us one. Secure our time on the Surface until we can sort out this matter with your... 'friend'."

Sebastian stood and bowed at the earl. "Of course, my Master."

Turning, he spoke a few things to the woman still perched on the bed, and she leaned around the demon butler to peer at the boy standing in the doorway. Then, returning her gaze to Sebastian's, she nodded, and Ciel found himself intensely curious about _that_ exchange. With a pat on the head to Menefer, Sebastian turned and made his way out the door. Lizzie arrived seconds later announcing that the bath was ready, and gently approached Menefer and helped her to her feet. This humble side of Elizabeth was a bigger shock to Ciel than the mummy had been, he decided, and incredibly _alluring_. He shook his head and headed back down to the parlor to allow the women some privacy. He wasn't shocked to find that Sebastian had cleaned the mess away before he'd left; the carpet was pristine and the floors shining. Ciel sat on the edge of the chaise and leaned back. He was asleep before he could pick his feet up from the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**_OK. So, here's where things start getting... henky. Twisted. _****Interesting. ^.^ From here on out, Rated M for Mature.**

**_I don't own Black Butler or its characters, plot references, or in any way represent the opinions of the owners/writers/etc._**

**_Many of you have been inquiring about clearing up some facts from Libera Me. This story WILL touch on those subjects-be patient:) Also, I apologize if the characters seem a little OOC... I am writing from a completely different perspective than the anime/manga. This is some years in the future and while I think I still have them pretty dead on, I'm sure someone will notice something I've missed. If someone seems _****particularly ****_OOC, I will provide an explanation, I assure you._**

**_Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome!_**

Elizabeth was drying Menefer's hair with a plush terry towel when the phone rang. The woman started at this new sound, shrill and frightening to her ears, Lizzie was sure, but she patted her on the shoulder and smiled, and hoped that she realized it was nothing to be afraid of. She left the woman on the vanity stool in her bedroom and went downstairs to the phone in the foyer, catching a glimpse of an exhausted Ciel collapsed on the chaise and smiled to herself that he could look so innocent even knowing what he'd become. She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Ms. Middleford?" a deep male voice inquired, with a bit of Irish brogue.

"This is she. Can I help you?"

"I hope so, ma'am. This is going to sound incredibly strange, but two ...men were seen fleeing the museum earlier today... They seem to fit the description of Sebastian Michaelis and Earl Ciel Phantomhive-I believe you were acquainted with them in your youth?"

"Yes... I was betrothed to the earl when I was a child. Sebastian was his butler. But they disappeared thirty years ago. To whom am I speaking?" To her credit, her voice was steady and she hadn't told a lie... yet.

"My apologies, ma'am. My name is Detective O'Toole of Scotland Yard. Like I said, I know this all sounds too strange to be true-but I've twenty witnesses that described the two of them runnin' away from the museum with a mummy after breakin' the display case..." he was getting flustered, she could tell; his politely lilting voice was getting sharper and his Irish accent was becoming more plain. "Anything you could tell us about the matter would be a great help, ma'am."

"I know nothing about the matter, I assure you, Detective. I haven't seen Mr. Michaelis nor the Earl Phantomhive in over thirty years. And why the devil would you think it was those two? Wouldn't the Earl be in his forties? The butler far too old to steal a mummy and get away from the authorities? Are you looking for a man and a boy, or two old men, sir?"

"Ms. Middleford-" he started, his voice getting lower and more threatening.

"_Indeed_. Ms. Middleford and you'd take care to remember it. I still wield sufficient political sway in this town and if you are accusing me of knowing something about this ridiculous heist from the museum-reportedly carried out by two immortal men-you, my dear detective, are committing career suicide. I know _nothing_. Good night, sir." And she dropped the earpiece back into its cradle. Ignoring the urge to pat herself on the back for her excellent acting skills, she turned to make her way back up the stairs to her guest, but a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her and she turned back toward the parlor where Ciel was asleep on the chaise. He wasn't there.

She brushed it off and turned once more to the staircase, but Ciel was on the third step, blocking her way. She started but quickly calmed, seeing the look on his cherubic face. "What is it, Dearest?" she asked, closing the gap between them. She stopped on the first step, but it was sufficient enough that he still towered over her and she had to admit it was somewhat thrilling to have him look down on her like this after all these years.

"I wanted to thank you, Eliza-Lizzie," he corrected himself quickly.

"You've already thanked me," she assured him, but whatever she was about to say next caught in her throat as he reached out and cupped her face in his palm. It was the sort of affection she had only ever dreamed of receiving from him; and she knew he understood the confusion on her face because of it.

"Lizzie," he whispered. "I'm torn. I never dreamed I'd have these sorts of emotions when I was human, let alone after I'd been... transformed. And to have you back, here before me a glorious woman that I cannot touch-it's far more painful that I'd imagined. I _am_ grown man. I have the rages and lusts and pride of a grown man. Yet I am forever a boy. And it pains me." His hand dropped back to his side and he closed his visible eye and took a deep breath.

She reached out and took his hands in hers and held them against her chest. "You have always been a grown man, my dearest Ciel. Even when we were children, you were an adult. After your parents died and you reappeared with Sebastian, you were changed, then. Not unlike how you've changed now. You have always been a raging, prideful man trapped in a boy's body. The only thing new to the equation is that your lust for success has grown into a different sort of lust. And I cannot fault you for that, because you are a man. And I have always loved you."

He forced himself to meet her gaze again, those huge shining green orbs that were glistening with tears as she stared at his face. Of course he knew she had always loved him. That had sometimes been her only redeeming quality-but would it be too presumptuous for him to want her now? Wouldn't it be entirely too _weird_? She was forty-five (but so was he) and though she could pass for fifteen years younger, he was even still half that age in appearance. "I am sorry, Lizzie, for it seems I've only now realized how much I've loved you... and there's not much to be done about it at this point."

It was her turn to cup his face and brush the hair back from the right side of it where it hung so haphazardly over his eye patch. She smiled a painful smile, her face now streaked with tears, and leaned forward, pressing her full lips to his forehead. She didn't say another word, dropping his hands finally, and gathering up her skirt, she sidled past him on the staircase and back up to her waiting charge.

Ciel stood there for some moments; and eventually losing track of time, he sat down on the stairs and stared at the front door, waiting for Sebastian to return while he played out the ill-fated fantasies in his mind.

Lizzie was relatively certain that, though Menefer didn't speak English and Elizabeth didn't speak ancient Egyptian, they had a solid understanding of one another. After the third stroke through the thickest, curliest hair she'd ever beheld, Lizzie handed the brush to Menefer who looked quizzically at it, then her. Lizzie mimed the motion on her own hair and Menefer immediately smiled and applied the technique to her own. Rubbing her tired eyes and wondering for the hundredth time if Paula was ever coming home, she decided she needed a hot bath and sleep more than anything.

The guest bedroom where they were and Lizzie's room were conjoined by a huge marble bathroom and she made her way to that door while Menefer was contentedly brushing her hair. The brown eyes caught her own in the reflection of the vanity mirror and suddenly seemed mildly panicked. "It's alright, dearest. I'm going to take a bath. Like you had earlier..." and she mimicked the scrubbing motion she had done on the bronze beauty before and Menefer's face lit up and she nodded, going back to brushing her hair. Lizzie shut the door to the bath behind her, but quickly thinking better of it, opened it again and left it cracked. She could still see the priestess in the dimly lit bedroom, and she heard the door downstairs open and close and heard Sebastian's baritone voice in the foyer. She turned on the tap to fill the tub with hot water and Sebastian's voice faded under the new noise. She checked once more on Menefer and satisfied that she would be brushing that mop of hair for quite a while, began to strip.

"We have a contract, sir. A London-based banker is setting up shop in New Orleans. He wants to be successful. It's possibly the easiest contract I've ever held. But we will be relocating. And seeing as he has no need for a butler, I suppose it's time I showed you my old home. We'll take a ship tonight across the Atlantic; I'm to start setting up his accounts as soon as we make port. He will follow in a week's time."

Ciel looked up at the butler from his seat on the staircase. "What about Lizzie?"

"With all due respect sir, what about 'Lizzie'?"

"The police are looking for us and they've already phoned here tonight. She's a marked suspect regarding our 'robbery'. I have the distinct impression they'll be knocking on her door first thing tomorrow."

"I think Mistress Elizabeth can handle the London police. Especially if there isn't any evidence of us left here by morning."

"I have a bad feeling about leaving her, Sebastian."

"Then I suggest you talk to her. I have no intention of abandoning her if it is as my lord wishes."

With a curt nod, Ciel stood. Brushing the wrinkles from his knee-breeches, he turned and made his way up the stairs to the guest bedroom. The door was open slightly and he peered in, seeing Menefer sitting at the vanity pulling a brush through her mane with a contented smile on her beautiful face. She caught sight of him immediately and her smile grew; she waved through the crack in the door and pointed behind her. He assumed she was telling him where Lizzie had gone. He pushed through the door and walked to the other, and seeing it cracked open as well, waited a moment before announcing himself. He lifted his hand to knock lightly and stopped in mid-air when he heard a terribly soft moan. Even Menefer seemed not to have heard it, as she continued her ministrations in front of the vanity mirror with a blissful look on her face.

He turned back to the crack in the door and listened for another moment. There it was again... Surely she wasn't injured. No... surely she _wasn't_... The color drained from his face and despite himself, he was peering through the crack of the bathroom door, imagination on fire.

She was in the tub, her back to him, her golden curls piled atop her head; head thrown back over the lip of the tub, eyes closed. He watched for scant moments and just when he thought he'd been mistaken, her back arched and her breasts appeared in his line of sight and he heard that same moan again, but this time drawn out, longing, and oh-so-erotic. And as he turned to flee as good sense told him he must, he swore he heard her whisper his name. He barely made it out of the room, into the safety of the empty hallway. He stood there, face in the corner, thinking of all manner of repulsive things to calm himself down. He'd never had such an experience-a _reaction_-in his life! To his chagrin, Menefer was laughing softly behind him and though he knew a demon should never blush, he could feel the blood in his face. So the priestess _had_ known. What a twisted little lush, he thought. Just like Sebastian...

He managed to get his libido under control and made his way back to the upper landing and there he sat, waiting on Lizzie to finish her... bath.

Nearly a half-hour later she emerged, wrapped in a silk dressing robe that left little to the imagination-and Ciel had to admit to himself, if her face didn't look older than thirty, her body must have still been in its teens-and he felt that tell-tale burn of color in his cheeks as he averted his eye. He was still embarrassed that he'd caught her, and though some noble part of him wanted to confess and ask forgiveness, he didn't honestly see where that would benefit either one of them, so he said nothing.

"Menefer motioned out here when I got out of the bath. I assumed you needed me for something, Ciel?"

He coughed. Did he need her? Or was that wishful thinking on both their parts? "I... had a question for you, Eliz-Lizzie."

She hugged the silk around herself a little tighter, seemingly now self-conscious of her state of dress. "What is it, Dearest?"

"Sebastian and I are to leave tonight. We'll obviously be taking Menefer with us. But I'm not sure leaving you here to fend for yourself is such a grand idea... especially since the authorities seem to believe you have something to do with Sebastian's sudden lack of cognizance."

"I understand... Where will you be going?"

"New Orleans, apparently. He's struck a contract with a rising banker that's been uprooted from London. Sebastian actually owns a house there... It's a terribly long story. But should you want-and I believe it's for the best-you can come with us."

Elizabeth's face seemed to light up for just a heartbeat, then fall completely as reality struck home. "I can't ...just leave. Paula isn't home yet-"

"Leave her a note."

"I have obligations here in London-"

"Send instructions to your brokers when we arrive."

"I have the company to run-"

"You can do that from anywhere in the world, Lizzie."

"Ciel! It's just not that simple! You can't tear me away from everything I've ever known and-"

"Yes, I _can_, Lizzie! All you've ever known has been heartbreak! I _destroyed_ you-I let you be destroyed! And I can give you a new life-somewhere away from the heartache and memories and pain that I caused you!" he was yelling now, and he knew that this impassioned outburst was unbecoming, but he didn't care. He trusted Menefer and Sebastian to stay out of this, and so they did-he heard two distinct doors close on both levels of the house in the silence that followed his tantrum.

She was crying now, as well she should, he thought. She stared at him with something akin to hatred and rage, but her eyes were soft and shining and though her lips were stiff against her teeth, they turned down at the edges with a sadness so deep, it broke his heart. He had done this to her... she wouldn't admit it, but it made no difference. And here the broken boy stood with all the confidence of the man he truly was, trying to right his wrongs. Her eyes closed and she sank to her knees, the carpet on the landing muffling her fall-and for a moment he thought she'd fainted-but she remained upright, one hand clenching her dressing gown shut and the other cupped over her mouth as she wailed.

He was inches from her before he'd noticed himself move, and his hands were in her hair, pulling it free from the pins she'd secured it with, and his actions startled her enough to move the hand covering her mouth and silence her cries for a moment. Those green eyes looked right through his soul-if he _had_ one-and his mouth was on hers before either of them could protest.

Her eyes widened in shock, so close to that painfully blue eye he possessed, and having never kissed a soul in his life, to his credit, he was doing particularly well. Her eyelids drooped and seeing that as a positive thing, Ciel closed his eyes as well, living in that moment when their lips met and hers were excruciatingly soft, and seeing as this bridge had been burned, he slipped his tongue in her mouth and she gasped against him; he felt a hand curl around his shirt front and pull him closer, and growing bolder by the second, he decided he had a lot of bridges to burn that night.

Unfortunately, they were no longer alone. A shrill screech echoed all around the townhouse suddenly and Ciel and Elizabeth tore apart from one another; Elizabeth with shame written plainly across her face and Ciel with the vague nonchalance he had possessed since he was ten.

"Paula..." Lizzie muttered. "Paula, it's not what it looks like... Well, I suppose it is _exactly_ what it looks like... but that's the point!" She shot to her feet and pointed at the earl. "It's Ciel!"

"NO SHIT?!" Paula screamed forgetting herself, her upbringing, her service to Elizabeth Middleford, and the guests of the house. Ciel had never in his life heard such an exclamation from a servant-good or bad-and his jaw dropped a fraction as he stared at the now elderly ladies maid. "I can see it's him, m'lady! My confusion is why is he here-and why is he still a teenager!"

"Paula! Language! And manners! If you'd calm down, I'd fill you in!"

"Ladies, please..." Ciel interceded. "Paula, you are a servant and have been your whole life. Conduct yourself as such. I don't care if you are twenty or sixty. Lizzie, do not condone her behavior. Both of you, to the kitchen where we can have this conversation like ...adults." He stalked between them and headed downstairs, the suddenly-extinguished fire in his blood now achingly empty and painful in his loins. "Sebastian," he called as he reached the foot of the stairs and the ever faithful butler's head appeared in the crack of the kitchen door.

"Yes, my master?"

Ciel decided immediately that Sebastian looked entirely too pleased about something. "Tea. Paula is home, incase you didn't hear."

"Indeed, my master. And may I suggest plundering Mistress Elizabeth's liquor cabinet, as well?"


	7. Chapter 7

_**I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji. Thank you for your faves and follows. It makes me giddy when I open my email and see all the notifications. I am humbled by your enthusiasm ^.^ Thank you. I know this fic is generating substantial traffic, and I've noticed that the traffic on Libera Me has jumped drastically. My only request is that you review!**_

The four of them settled at the kitchen table, a tea service in the center and a snifter of brandy directly in front of Paula-a stately woman in appearance around the age of fifty-two, Ciel figured. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes off him and it was really no wonder, he thought. She had just had the ill fortune of interrupting him intimately entwined with her mistress, and he still looked as though he were a child. He supposed he would have a hard time as well digesting that, had he been in her shoes. Every so often, she would cut her glare toward the butler, but he would smile that provocative smile of his and she would redden to the roots of her now-gray hair and hurriedly deflect her gaze back to the boy demon. After several long moments of silence, Lizzie finally cleared her throat and began to try and explain the situation.

"Paula, I'm not quite sure how to say this... but I intend to leave with Ciel for America tonight-" she glanced at the wall clock above the pie case, "-in about three hours, actually."

Paula's glare was finally off Ciel. Her eyes widened and her hands smacked the tabletop, rattling everything on top. "Absolutely, NOT!"

"Paula! Calm down-you cannot presume to tell me-"

"I'll tell you what the hell I _want_ to tell you, m'lady! Something's unnatural about these two and if you can't see that, well you're blinded by your own fantasy!"

"If you would care to show your mistress some respect-like you did thirty years ago-perhaps she'll tell you what is so unnatural about us," Ciel deadpanned, leveling his glowing red eye at the ladies maid and wondering if she'd lost her mind in the years since he'd last seen her. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you were my servant, I'd toss you out on your ear. Elizabeth has been generous and kind to you, but I assure you, a servant is never above a good beating and I will do it myself if you forget your place one more time."

Paula visibly swallowed, her eyes huge and filled with fear. She reached for the snifter of brandy and downed it all in one gulp. "My apologies, my lord."

Ciel nodded curtly and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the knees and rolling his eyes to his butler who smiled with unabashed approval.

"Paula, I know there's something...unnatural ...about them. They're... not of this world, you see. Sebastian here, he's been more than a butler to Ciel-he's been somewhat of a bodyguard."

Ciel and Sebastian both noted that she seemed unable to utter the word 'demon'.

"They're both... well, immortal so to speak... and they have brought a friend with them here. Oh, dear..." Lizzie covered her face in her hands and scrubbed them up and down, gathering her thoughts. There was just no nice way to say it.

"Pour me a glass of brandy will you, Sebastian?"

"My pleasure, Mistress Elizabeth," he smiled as he rose and retrieved the brandy decanter and another snifter. He poured it expertly and sat it before her, then refilled Paula's glass and left the decanter there on the table between them. "I think I shall go check on Menefer," he directed his comment to Ciel and the boy nodded sharply, dismissing him from the drama about to erupt in that kitchen. Sauntering out into the parlor, he called over his shoulder, "I am but a shout away, my young master..."

Paula's eyes followed the butler's retreat, then locked down on Ciel again, who sat there, devoid of emotion, his eye having turned blue again, as he studied to two women before him. She reached for her brandy and sipped it this time, then finally turned her full attention back to Elizabeth.

Lizzie pressed her brandy glass to her lips and took a long draw of the fiery liquid. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Paula, Sebastian is a demon. Wait! Before you have hysterics again! He's not... dangerous to either of us. And thirty years ago, while trying to save Ciel from another ...family... of demons, Ciel was changed into one himself. Since he and Sebastian held a contract, Sebastian is now forced to serve him for all eternity. The only way either of them would be a threat is if we struck a contract with them, as well..."

Paula reached again for her brandy, but to her credit, she hadn't uttered a single word... Yet.

Lizzie pressed on. "They came for a visit this morning. And after they left here, they went to the British Museum. Sebastian is very old, you see... and he happened upon someone he knew... at the museum. In the Egyptian exhibit."

"So he brought a friend from the museum. What, a curator, or something?"

A burst of laughter escaped Ciel at that moment, startling both Paula and Lizzie. "Or something, indeed," he said, recovering but still with a grin plastered on his face that Lizzie found a little too tempting. She averted her eyes quickly and carried on.

"She was a friend of his... _from_ Egypt. She _was_ the exhibit, Paula."

Paula downed her brandy and slammed the empty glass down on the table. "Okay. I can handle this. No more outbursts," she promised, and taking the whole decanter in her hands, she held it in her lap and waited for Elizabeth to continue.

A warm smile spread over Lizzie's lovely face and she knew that Paula would indeed hear them out. She had found Paula was always a tad too protective of her, but as they both aged, Paula had become less like a ladies maid and more like an overprotective mother hen. She knew it was out of love for her, so Elizabeth treated her with more indulgence than most servants had ever known. But Paula had steadily become more and more over the top, and Lizzie feared she'd began to have bouts of dementia-especially when the expletives became more and more frequent. She hadn't figured out how to have Paula examined by her physician without raising Paula's own suspicions, and using the pretext that she was sick was impossible, because the woman simply never did _get_ sick. Lizzie reached out and took Paula's hand in her own. She didn't want to leave her behind, but she didn't know if Paula would accept her invitation, either.

"Menefer, Sebastian's friend, seemed to come back to life while he was next to her display case. She broke the case from the inside and they had no choice but to flee the museum with her. As such, the authorities are looking for them because they think they've stolen a mummy. And ...while she _was_ a mummy, she's not quite so mummified now. She's living, breathing, and unbelievably _beautiful_, Paula. They cannot let the police find them. If they take her, who knows what will happen? She's lost and but for us, completely alone. She cannot speak English, I have no clothes that will fit her, and they are leaving tonight because of the danger. Now, Ciel wants me to come with him. And we'll have a home where we are going. And I'll need you there, as much as I've ever needed you here, Paula. Will you come with me?"

Paula turned the decanter in her hands, watching the liquid move about for several minutes. Finally she raised her head and nodded. Then, un-stopping the decanter, took several stout gulps from the brandy and sat it back on the table with a loud crack. "Where are we going?"

"New Orleans, Louisiana, my lady," Sebastian's voice drifted from the doorway. Paula turned to face him and Lizzie's eyes were wide with adoration. Menefer stood there, grasping tightly to the sleeve of Sebastian's shirt, her eyes bright with expectation and the tiniest bit of fear. He'd apparently picked a dress for her while he was out and found some strappy little shoes as well.

Much to Ciel's distaste, it was what Sebastian had called a "Flapper" style ensemble-what all the women on the street that morning had been wearing. He couldn't put his finger on precisely why he hated the style so much... But he had to admit, she wore it well. Of course, she would probably be gorgeous in a potato sack...

"Go on, my Dear. Introduce yourself to your friends."

Confusion crossed Lizzie's and Ciel's faces in unison-Menefer had only spoken in that ancient language and had only spoken it to Sebastian. But their mouths hung agape as the beautiful priestess walked into the kitchen and said in a raspy, sultry voice with a perfect British accent, "It is good to meet you. Thank you for caring for me."

Sebastian was grinning ear to ear behind her and she turned and smiled at him, like a child proud of an enormous accomplishment; Ciel nearly found himself applauding. "How?" he asked, his attention still riveted to the Egyptian woman.

"Her mind seems to regenerate-and learn-as quickly as her body has. I still do not know the why of it, but I believe it has something to do with my presence and the pendant she wears around her neck."

"The one you gave her?"

"Yes, my lord. You see, there's a bit of a story to that, as well. Suffice it to say, the pendant is made with enchantments designed to harness the power of her 'gods'. And as I am a Fallen-what the populace believed to _be_ gods in her society-it appears to be absorbing my powers and making her ...well, what you see before you now."

"And what a vision, indeed!" Lizzie exclaimed, standing and scuffling to the transformed woman. She took Menefer's hands and twirled her in a happy little pirouette. The lace dress draped her curves beautifully, the ivory and gold accents the perfect colors to display on her flawless caramel skin. Sebastian had removed all her jewelry but for that pendant, and having been cleaned, Lizzie could see it was a rich carnelian obelisk in a gold filigree hanger. She touched it with the tip of her finger and smiled.

"Carnelian represents the blood of life, and immortality," Sebastian explained as Lizzie admired the obelisk at Menefer's throat. "In retrospect, I suppose those attributes could have something to do with our current juncture..." he trailed off, pressing his forefinger to his chin thoughtfully. "This may require some research."

Lizzie pulled back from the priestess, but still held her hands in her grasp. "It has been wonderful meeting you, Dearest," she said, her face bright with genuine happiness. "And I simply cannot wait to hear the tales you must surely weave for us on our crossing."

Menefer did not reply, but the smile she returned to Elizabeth seemed to say that she understood every word the blonde had spoken.

Ciel stood from the table circumvented it, coming to a stop directly in front of Sebastian. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to catch a nap on the chaise until we leave."

"Very good, sir. I will wake you when we are prepared to depart."

Lizzie decided that was a superb plan and patting Menefer's hand, she went upstairs to throw a few belongings in a small traveling trunk. Paula rose as well, and with nothing but an apologetic look thrown in Sebastian's general direction, marched to the back staircase behind the kitchen and up to the servant's quarters above where she would presumably follow Elizabeth's example and pack a light trunk for their trip.

Sebastian took Menefer by the hand and guided her back to the guest room next to Elizabeth's. "Stay and rest for a while. I'll come get you when we are ready to leave."

It surprised even him, that she looked up at him with those huge chocolate eyes and said, "Do you promise? You'll not leave me again?" Her throaty voice was thick with what he suspected was tears and he placed a gloved hand atop her curls and smiled his most honest smile.

"I do promise, Menefer. I will not leave you again."

The light of dawn found them miles from London. The sea was choppy and to Ciel's chagrin, he found he didn't enjoy ships as much as he had as a child. Sebastian and Paula had seen to the scant luggage the ladies had packed and now Paula was locked in a cabin with Elizabeth, seemingly determined to keep Ciel away from her. Menefer was asleep in Sebastian's and Ciel's cabin, and the two demons were standing at the deck railing, gazing out across the gray waters as the explosion of orange and pink and yellow crested the horizon. Ciel's stomach lurched with every heave of the ship beneath him, and he wondered if throwing up would make him feel better. It was a shame he couldn't eat, or that wouldn't have even been a question. Sebastian looked at him with amusement. "You will get used to it, my master."

"That's easy for you to say," Ciel grumbled, turning from the rail and making his way toward their cabin. "I'm going to try and lie down. Don't wake me till we're on land."

That earned a hearty chuckle from the demon butler-now-banker. "Of course, my master."

Ciel found his way to their cabin with little enough effort. There weren't many passengers up and about at this time of the morning, so he didn't have to endure the strange gazes of humans wondering why a young boy was wandering around in Victorian garb and an eye patch. He opened the door quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping priestess, and kicked off his shoes at the foot of the second bed in the room. He wondered briefly if he should take off his clothes, but seeing as he was rumpled enough to begin with and he didn't have anything to sleep in, he shrugged it off and climbed into the bed on top of the coverlets.

His sleep as a demon was gradually growing more and more fitful, filled with nightmares of horrors past and visions of hellfire licking up the bodies of his loved ones. More than once, he'd dreamed of Lizzie in the midst of that hellfire and awoken in a cold sweat. Sebastian assured him that as he matured as a demon, his requirement for sleep would eventually diminish completely. Sebastian described it as more of a meditation-he himself having only really slept one night in over forty years that he could remember. Ciel tossed atop the sheets and woke briefly a few times, turning his eyes over to the other bed and seeing Menefer there, peaceful and still, and resolved himself to go back to sleep over and over again. He dreamed of Lizzie; thankfully not being devoured by flames, but in other... circumstances... that he probably shouldn't focus on when he finally awoke.

Menefer's movement next to him in the room was what brought him back to reality. He lay there for several moments, his eyes still closed, his back turned to her, and listened. She was making the most curious mewling sound and he immediately remembered finding Elizabeth in the bath earlier that previous evening. He wondered if he should say something or not, and curiosity finally got the better of him and he turned slowly, relieved to find her decent and sitting up in bed. "Whatever are you doing, making that sound?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

He didn't really expect an answer, but to his surprise, she provided one in perfect English. "Practicing, my lord. Your... language is difficult for my tongue. I must make sounds to learn."

"Oh." Ciel sat up and reached for his eye patch on the pillow next to him. Tying it around his head with practiced efficiency, he felt the sudden urge to encourage her. "You are doing very well."

"Thank you, my lord. I am trying. Marcus says I must master this and he will teach me... other things. More words. How to read. About this place-" she gestured around herself. "Not just ship, but the world. I have known only Egypt and darkness."

"I suppose you have. Do you know what time it is, Menefer?"

She glanced at her lap and then around the room. "Marcus left for us his watch..." spotting it on the small table in the cabin, she hopped up and retrieved it. Staring at it for a moment, she discovered how to open the latch and the lid popped open and she studied the two little arms on the face of the watch. "It is seven thirty, I think," she declared and shuffling to the bed where Ciel was perched, she sat on the edge of the coverlet and handed him the watch.

He took it from her, checked it, and discovered she was correct. He'd slept an entire day. But his stomach wasn't roiling about in his body any longer and he thought perhaps he should at least join Lizzie for supper. But he didn't have a change of clothes, he remembered and wondered if it would cause a scene if he appeared in the dining hall with his rumpled knee breeches and creased shirt. His eyes wondered around the cabin, looking for anything to make do, when he saw with bemused surprise, an outfit laid out for him on the bench at the foot of his bed. "Oh, Sebastian. Will you ever cease to amaze me?"

To be completely honest, the Earl Phantomhive couldn't remember a time when he'd dressed himself. It wasn't as if he couldn't he supposed, he'd just always had Sebastian for that little chore. Menefer, still garbed in the sleeping gown that Lizzie had provided her, threw a robe over herself and announced she would get ready with the other women. She made quick work of her massive mane and snatched up her ivory and gold 'flapper' dress and marched out of their cabin, leaving Ciel alone to dress himself. He could call Sebastian, he mused, but he wanted to see the look on the butler's face when he appeared fully dressed without the older demon's help.

He was struggling with the tie when there was a light knock on his cabin door. "It's open," he called, fully expecting it to be Sebastian that appeared to defeat the silk obstacle around his neck. It wasn't however; Elizabeth's head popped in the crack of the door and found him standing in front of the mirror in the corner of the room, decidedly irritated with this scrap of fabric. She smiled and let herself in, closing the door gently behind her and motioning for him to turn so she could tie the thing herself.

Ciel felt the color returning to his cheeks as she sat on the edge of his bed and pulled him to her with firm fingers grasping his sleeves. He averted his gaze for some time while she untangled the mess he'd made with the tie, then started over. Her hair smelled of vanilla and lavender again, and her breath was decidedly sweet with peppermint. And he couldn't help but remember that her mouth had tasted like chamomile and mint when he'd kissed her the other night...

"Stop fidgeting, Dearest," she scolded.

"I don't seem to be able to stop myself," Ciel grumbled, finally making eye contact with the woman inches from his face. Her shining green eyes were smiling and she teasingly leaned closer and pecked him on the nose. The color rushed to his face then and she laughed artlessly and tugged at the silk tie. She seemed to enjoy teasing him, he thought, and it was an absolute pity that he couldn't do anything to punish her for it at that moment. "Finished?" he asked, instead of protesting her provocations, and she nodded.

"Done. Would you care to escort a lady to dinner?"

Ciel grinned despite himself. "Most certainly."


	8. Chapter 8

_**I do not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I am not making any money by using it's name or characters. Etc, Etc.**_

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The dining room of the luxury liner was abustle with bodies wrapped in the finest examples of the modern fashion. There was a jazz band in the far corner from the entrances and a sea of swarming "flappers" writhing around one another on the small dance floor. Sebastian and Menefer were already seated at a large round table at the opposite corner from the band and Ciel couldn't help thinking that somehow he looked terribly out-of-place there, lounging at a table with a beautiful woman. He'd only ever known Sebastian to be a servant, and seeing him being served somewhat bristled Ciel's nerves. He supposed he had no choice but to accept this abrupt change in roles for the demon-he would always be Ciel's butler-but to the outside world, Sebastian was now a businessman. And he fit the part as easily as he fit the roll of butler, or tutor, or musician.

Lizzie had her hand looped casually through Ciel's crooked arm and they made their way across the dining room to the table Sebastian had reserved. Ciel wondered vaguely if onlookers assumed he was Lizzie's son. He supposed that was another thing he had no control over, and it was probably for the best. Menefer spotted them first and waved cheerfully and Sebastian rose and pulled out two chairs for them. Ciel saw that Lizzie was seated comfortably and took the seat next to hers. Paula bumbled into the dining room shortly after and made her way to their table, only to inform them that she wasn't feeling well and would take her dinner in her room. She pointed a crooked finger at Elizabeth and narrowed her eyes, but didn't say a word, and left in the same clumsy bumbling manner in which she had arrived.

"What was all that about?" Ciel asked, not particularly caring for the answer he felt was coming.

"That was her, 'I'm watching you' finger," Elizabeth explained, a smile on her face. "She was telling me to behave myself. She's done that for the last thirty years."

"My lord," Sebastian piped in, "speaking of behavior-what would you like to do once we make port in New Orleans? As far as public perception goes, that is?"

"I suppose it would be prudent to pass me off as your son, considering the social circles you are bound to encounter... As for Lizzie and Menefer, I honestly have no idea."

"Pass me off as a servant, Sebastian," Lizzie suggested. "I do not look enough like Ciel to pass for his mother, but Menefer may be able. I have no qualms about doing dishes and the like."

Ciel turned his eye toward her with a look of absolute disbelief. She laughed. "Truly. I've done more of Paula's job in the last few years than she has. I don't mind at all."

"Of all the things I never thought I'd hear..." he mumbled, then turned his attention to the priestess. "Do you understand any of this?" he asked point-blank.

"Yes. I understand. I will be your mother to those who do not know us."

"Your speech has come along remarkably fast. I commend you."

"Thank you, my lord Ciel," she beamed, and even Sebastian looked a little surprised at Ciel's praise. "Marcus says I am doing well. If I keep talking in your English, then I will continue to improve. I want to speak nothing but English. I speak it to myself. I speak it in my sleep. I will be perfect soon. I will not fail you, my lord Ciel!"

Ciel looked at "Marcus" and said, "Reminds me something of Prince Soma."

"My lord, Ciel?"

"Menefer, why not just call me Ciel? I can't very well be your 'lord' if I'm your son, now can I?"

"Yes. Ciel. I can do this."

"Good... Mum."

That earned a hearty chuckle from both Lizzie and Sebastian. When the smiles died down and wine was ordered for Menefer and Lizzie, and the band had started playing less upbeat jazz and more classical, ballroom style music, Elizabeth leaned into the table and asked Menefer, "Marcus? Is that what you called our Sebastian when you knew him?"

"Marcus is who he _was_ when I knew him," she replied, matter-of-factly. "I met him first when he marched into Thebes with the Roman Legion."

Elizabeth's eyes were as wide as saucers and she stared mutely at the priestess across the table. Sebastian leaned back in his chair-probably the most relaxed Ciel had ever seen him-with a bemused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, content to let Menefer weave her tales of their past.

"This was before Roman rule actually began in Egypt, mind you," Sebastian pointed out. "That was around 30 B.C. I think my legion may have been the first Romans in Egypt; certainly the first that Menefer had ever seen. We were part of a scouting party that went horribly wrong... I should also add that I was contracted to the Legion General at the time and by 'horribly wrong' I mean of course, that I was... involved, to say the least."

Menefer took a sip of wine and continued. "I was an orphan. I stole to survive. The common law in Egypt was that if you could steal and not be captured, you kept whatever you had taken. It made no matter if it was a loaf of bread or a diamond the size of your fist. But if you were caught, the victim could determine your punishment. Many of my brethren died for loaves of bread..." she trailed off sadly and took another swallow of wine. "I suppose I was lucky when I was caught. I was beaten and exiled. Marcus found me on the side of the road. He stared hard at me when they marched by. I was broken and near death. He returned in the middle of the night and took me to a temple..."

Every eye at the table was on Sebastian at that point, but the grin had been replaced by a frown at the memory and while Lizzie was certain to believe that this demon Legionnaire turned butler had a soft heart and concern where others were wronged, Ciel knew she was sorely mistaken. Ciel knew that the demon had not developed that particular soft spot until he was summoned in New Orleans in the late 18th century and all because of a girl named Cybille. During Menefer's life, he was brutal and merciless and the only reason he'd saved her initially was because he thought he could use her. And while it was likely that Menefer had figured this out on her own, there was always the possibility that she'd never known and Ciel was not about to point that fact out to the common company.

"The temple priest took me in and Marcus gave him enough gold to provide for me until I was old enough to serve the goddess. I started young, of course. Marcus was not in Egypt long. I remember the day he came to tell the priest he was leaving. I was nine. It had been half a year since he had left me with Ankhshunamun {Ankh-sa-hoonAh-moon}. He gave the priest more gold and said he would be back in a year..."

_He told himself she was worth something as he stole out of the encampment, throwing his cape back over the opposite shoulder so that it wrapped him against the chill night air. He muttered to himself as he trekked back down the sandy path where he'd spotted her earlier in the day. She had been near death then; perhaps he was wasting his time trying to save her now. Maybe she'd be dead when he got there, and he could feel the fool for a few moments, and sneak back into his camp with no one the wiser._

_He spotted her limp form half-buried in the sand, several meters off the side of the road. Powerful legs made quick work of the steep drop-off and loose sand as he made his way to her. She was a child, eight or nine, a lovely little creature with her mop of black curls and skin the color of a sandstorm. Reaching down, he pushed her over so her face was pointed at the stars and carefully wrapped his fingers around her neck searching for a pulse. It was faint, but it was _there_ and he pulled the waterskin off the leather belt around his hips and dribbled the liquid over her mouth. After a few drops, a tiny pink tongue reached out and licked cracked dry lips. He poured a steadier stream and her eyes fluttered open, searching the night for the bearer of this gift. Her eyes met his briefly and she raised her head enough to take the waterskin into her mouth. After several desperate gulps, she sickened and turned her head and wretched in the sand. "Slowly, little one," Marcus mumbled, helping her sit up and handing the waterskin to her. She blinked at him, not understanding the Latin coming from his lips. She said something in her own tongue that he didn't recognize, and took the skin and up-ended it, swallowing a couple of times, then lowered it into her lap breathing heavily. He assumed she was trying to bully her way past the nausea, as a child would. To her credit, she didn't wretch again, and eventually she emptied the skin and handed it back to him sheepishly. She muttered something else, and this time he knew what she'd said._

_"Thank you."_

_It didn't take him long to assess her injuries. She had a broken hand, likely from being beaten with a staff or rod, and multiple bruises ranging from green-yellow to ruby red and starting to blacken. Her arms and legs were covered in them, and she looked as if she hadn't had a solid meal in her entire life. Huge eyes were dwarfed by protruding cheekbones and the bones in her shoulders and neck were prominent and fragile looking. Still, she was a lovely imp, no matter how sickly and filthy she appeared._

_He'd brought a small blanket out with him and he tossed it over her shoulders and helped her to stand, carefully avoiding her broken hand. She asked a question again, the same one she'd asked before that he didn't understand. He shook his head at her, his blank gaze telling her he didn't know what she was trying to tell him. She smiled a little and gestured to the heavens, holding her arms out wide, and quickly brought them together, pointing at him. "Am I from there?" and he mimed her actions. She nodded and finally said a word in her language that he understood: "God."_

_The Temple of Isis was inside the borders of the great city of Thebes and as such, Marcus was forced to smuggle the child back inside the city. It wouldn't have been a difficult task for the lowliest of the low and he made quick work of it, even making the child giggle in excitement in the process, leaping the city wall and bypassing guards in a blur. While he moved, he was concentrating on the language she had spoken. One of his gifts was languages and he could use his abilities to learn a new one in less than moments. He knew he would need to master it by the time he got to the temple._

_There was a great sea of sand between the wall and where civilization began with lotus ponds and promenades. There was no one in sight except the occasional guard and Marcus made the trip all the quicker with his supernatural speed-and for some reason, that thrilled the little girl on his back to no end._

_He didn't mind that he was only enforcing her belief that he was a deity In fact, he intended to encourage that belief. The more power she believed he possessed, the easier his control over her would be in the future._

_Her good hand clung to his shoulder while her broken hand bounced limply with his movements. It was swelling before his eyes and the color was darkening from red to black. He needed to get her to the temple where the priests could see to her healing before parts of her became useless. He had to confess, her bravery (or maybe it was stupidity) was admirable at least. She hadn't muttered a single syllable of complaint, even with a crushed hand hanging from her little wrist. Perhaps the damage was so bad, she didn't feel the pain, he mused as he finally caught sight of their destination..._

Ciel dutifully saw Elizabeth back to her cabin and stood just outside the entrance as she opened the door and peered in the darkness to see if Paula was there. The older woman was snoring up a storm on the bed on the far side of the room. Lizzie dropped her clutch and shawl on the chair just inside the door and turned back to Ciel, letting the door close most of the way behind her. She smiled down at him and the fact that his facial expression hadn't changed in the last three and a half hours seemed to make her smile even more. "Thank you for tonight, Dearest," she whispered, green eyes shining like beacons in the dim light of the corridor.

"Of course," he replied, in his usual gruff manner and it didn't deter her grin in the least.

She was happy, of course, for so many reasons; and her attitude was definitely on the up due to all the mysteries and adventure unfolding around her and, _finally_, involving her. Still, she supposed, there was something dreadfully wrong with her if she was thinking the things she'd been lately, about a boy who looked not a day over thirteen, even if he was the same age as her in mind, if not in appearance. And, no doubt, the nearly entire bottle of wine she'd consumed at dinner probably wasn't helping her inhibitions, either. But to Ciel's credit, when she leaned down and pressed her mouth against his, he didn't flinch. He didn't gasp, or curse, or seem otherwise inclined to push her away. In fact, his pliable little mouth opened under hers and he let her take her fill of him, till she pulled away, breathless and reeling. She'd never in her life been kissed properly, she realized suddenly. The shock must have shown on her face.

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" Ciel asked, completely nonchalantly, as if a thirteen year old boy and a forty-five year old woman should always kiss one another so passionately in the hallways of luxury liners.

Her hand was over her mouth now, but she nodded. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so forward-"

"As much as it pains me to admit this aloud... Lizzie, while I think both of us are probably insane because we are harboring the same fantasies, I cannot tell you that I do not enjoy it. I do not think it is healthy for you, particularly, to act on these fantasies-at least..." he cleared his throat conspicuously "...not in public. So while I ...liked... what happened a moment ago, I cannot condone anymore of it until we are in New Orleans, at least."

Elizabeth found herself nodding at the earl, and reaching behind her, grasped the doorknob. "You are absolutely right, Ciel."

With a goodnight whispered between them, she retreated into her cabin with the sleeping maid, and Ciel turned on his heel and made his way to his own room. To any onlooker he passed, he looked the little lord earl, stern and cold. But he didn't feel his feet hit the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

**_This is where the M rating starts to make an appearance ;)_**

**_I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji. I am merely taking some of the characters out for a stroll and will return them post haste._**

**_Be warned, this chapter is rated M for a reason. There is a lemon in this chapter. Under 18, turn back now. Don't like, don't read. Etc, etc, etc._**

**_Thank you to all my readers for following/favoriting. I still lack reviews, though! I needs them, I tells ya! I'm posting this chapter as an early update to try and bribe y'all into reviewing for me ^.^_**

_Marcus was nearing the gilded facade of the temple and wanting to test his linguistic skills, began to ask the child questions. "What is your name?"_

_"Menefer," she replied, still clinging to his shoulder._

_"How old are you?"_

_"Eight."_

_"What happened to you?"_

_"Why are you asking me so many questions?" she countered._

_"Why do you think?"_

_"If you were a god, you would not have to ask so many," she said loftily, but conceded after he turned his glowing red eyes on her over his shoulder. "I am an orphan. I was caught stealing bread. They beat me and exiled me. I think they thought I'd die without bloodying their hands too much."_

_"Dangerously perceptive for a child, are you not?"_

_"Why did you help me? I think you are not a benevolent god."_

_"You would be correct." He stopped several meters from the temple and dropped her to the ground, and turning to face her, he knelt in the sand. "I am not very benevolent. I think I can use you when you grow a little older. And you wouldn't want to make a god angry with you, hmm?"_

_She shook her head, but to her credit, she maintained eye contact with the demon. He still wasn't particularly sure how he could use her, but the gut feeling he'd had when he'd first spotted her was still there and he'd decided to go with it. "Are you leaving me at the temple?"_

_"Yes. I have to get back to my camp tonight. I cannot let anyone know what I've done here, or it may disrupt my current plans. The priests will see to your healing and any other needs you may have. I will check on you in a few days."_

_She nodded and standing, Marcus took her small hand and led her to the temple steps. A priest with elaborate Kohl designs on his brow appeared with folded hands and demanded to know the circumstances. The demon willed the priest to accept his charge and then handed over a stack of gold. The foreign currency wouldn't matter, since he figured the priests would melt it down anyway. The girl was taken in and the demon made his way back to the Roman encampment._

_It was a small camp, ringed with sturdy tents and pavilions, a large fire casting light over it all from the center. There were a few guards up and about, but there really wasn't any need to check the perimeter-which made sneaking back in all the more easy. Not that any one of the soldiers would have questioned Marcus, or his actions. He was the most brutal among them, and the General's favorite. Of course, the General was the only one that knew Marcus' roots and mission. And the demon had other suspicions as to precisely why he was the favorite. Roman men tended to look at women and men in the same light on most occasions, he'd noted. Not that he had any particular problem with that. The demon preferred women, if he had to choose, but it wasn't as if he'd never lain with a man, either. There had been very few female contractors in his life thus far, and, as he slipped into the General's tent unnoticed, he realized with distaste, he'd slept with almost all of them._

_Suppressing the sudden urge to wretch, he thanked the devil the General hadn't been so forward, and he spread himself out on his sleeping pallet and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep. He hadn't in so long, he'd forgotten _how_ to sleep. He thought of his plans for this Legion he was with, and the end of his contract with the General; so near. Only a year or so left. The General wanted to return to Rome a hero. Marcus had contrived to have them scout this desert country and would destroy the Legion. The General-truly a joke-would return the only survivor of the slaughter that had occurred in this far-away land. The contract would be complete, Marcus could get out of Rome. He'd need to set up a contract in Egypt to ensure his plans for the girl came to fruition. But first, he would have to actually lay plans for the girl. Maybe he could put her on the throne..._

_First light came too soon amidst his fantasies of living as a Pharaoh. The General was harder to wake than any human he'd ever had the misfortune of serving. The desire to slit his throat in his sleep was too tempting, so Marcus nudged him with a sandaled foot and retreated from the tent into the harsh glare of the desert around him. He had done one thing correctly, that ridiculous excuse for a General: he'd named Marcus Brutus well. And Marcus had repeatedly shown his fellow soldiers that fact during training. He had killed the first man that challenged him and maimed at least the next four. Not many cared to call him out after that, but he had heard some talk among them about abducting him and selling him off to caravaners for gladiatorial fights. They would be sure to make fistfuls of money, if they could catch him without getting killed._

_He made his way to their makeshift bath-nothing more than a large urn of water-and splashed some on his face and hair, then stared at himself in the reflection of it for a bemused moment. It never ceased to amaze him every time he came to the Surface, the features imbued unto him from his contractors. While he generally looked the same every time-he was a living, breathing being, after all-sometimes his hair was light, or dark; short, or long; eyes a different color every time; and almost always reminiscent of some lost loved one. Now he had the standard haircut of every Roman soldier, short with tiny bangs across his forehead; and his build had changed somewhat because of his activities of late; more so than how the General had wished him sculpted. He was heavier, thicker than normal. But melee after melee and swinging a broadsword and bronze shield around would do that to any man. His skin was a bit lighter than anyone else's but no one seemed to notice, or at least, didn't call him out on it; and that was good, because _he_ simply couldn't change that-like his ears never changed, or his nose was always aquiline and his lips thin and unused to smiling._

_The General was up. Marcus heard him bellow across the camp something about food and his lieutenant. With a deep and heartfelt sigh, the demon turned from his musings and made his way to his Contract._

Menefer moaned and turned and tossed in her sleep. Ciel slept like a corpse. Sebastian sat at the desk in their cabin, remembering things he hadn't thought of in a thousand years. He watched Menefer sleep and wondered what sorts of things she dreamed. Judging from her fidgeting and the noises she was making, they were the sorts of things she'd done as an adult... Her restlessness had bundled the coverlet at her feet and the ill-fitting gown Elizabeth had loaned her was bunched around her thighs in a most provocative manner. She tugged at the high neckline repeatedly, brow furrowed in distress, then she'd suddenly settle down for a few moments. The reprieve did not last long before she was mewling and arching and tugging again. Sebastian had to admit, it was certainly an entertaining show. Huge expanses of caramel flesh exposed to his glowing red eyes... flesh that he was intimately familiar with calling to him to ease its fevered craving. He could do nothing about it with Ciel in the same room, though, could he? Not for the first time, he rolled his eyes in frustration, took a deep breath and rose to pace. A few circuits around the room, and he stopped at Menefer's bed, gazing down at the priestess who was pulling at her neckline again. With a mental note to apologize to Elizabeth, he reached down with a razor sharp claw and hooked the fabric stretched taut between Menefer's considerable breasts. She was freed in a second's time and her ample cleavage was a sight that made the demon's mouth water. He forced himself to turn and walk away, even going so far as to leave the cabin and make his way out on deck. He hadn't had a woman since that stupid little nun some thirty years ago, and he hadn't wanted a woman since Cybille. He supposed it was past time for some cravings to resurface.

He watched the sun rise from the railing of the ship, the orange and red slowly part from the darkness on the horizon and he heard footsteps behind him. He knew who it was of course, but it certainly wasn't who he had expected it to be. Elizabeth made her way to the rail and clutched it with her left hand, her right holding her shawl closed in front of her. "Sebastian."

"Mistress Elizabeth. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her face was gaunt and there were dark circles under her eyes and he knew she hadn't slept at all after dinner last night. "I couldn't seem to close my eyes. Every time I did... all I could see was Ciel and I felt so guilty for thinking of him... that way..."

Sebastian felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed."

Elizabeth leveled her glare on the demon, but couldn't maintain the malice there for long. Soon she giggled and reached out and looped her arm through his. They stayed like that for sometime, staring out at the Atlantic, the sun growing above the horizon, Lizzie drawing her strength from the man that stood with her. She knew it was completely natural to be abhorred at the thought of bedding a thirteen year old boy. Part of her was trying to remember he was a grown man, while the other part was trying to convince her she was a little girl again._ And really, what could Ciel do for her physically_? she wondered. Were thirteen year old boys ...equipped for that sort of thing?

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"This is going to sound awful and horrid and all manner of wretched..."

"Sounds like my kind of conversation," he soothed, patting her hand and looking down his shoulder at the beautiful blonde.

"I _do_ love Ciel. I love him very much. I ...how do I say this? I very much would like... um..."

"You want to lie with my young master?"

She couldn't reply. She couldn't meet his eyes. She didn't understand how he could just come out and say it so matter of factly. It was true, though. Ciel evoked a primal need in her-he always had. She loved him from the bottom of her heart and it was more than just her need to be with him; it was _his_ need to _have_ her and she understood that. She _knew_ he had the urge to bed her. She _knew_ he wanted her, just as surely as she drew breath. But that was where her certainty ended.

"Mistress Elizabeth. While I am flattered that you would come to me concerning your struggle with what you perceive to be _morality_, need I remind you that I am in fact, a demon. As such, my 'morals' would certainly clash with your own. I've done things in my life that would make you hate me many times over, I assure you. So if I tell you, I see no problem with you sleeping with my lord, will you take my advice and follow your heart or will you become disgusted with me and do what your head tells you?"

She met his eyes finally and it struck her how very much like Ciel he looked. She knew that was because Ciel had inadvertently caused him to look like his father, Vincent Phantomhive. But he was strikingly beautiful nonetheless and she knew he was sincere. He had always been frank and sincere with her, even if he had sugar-coated it a bit when she was a child. He was unlike anything anyone had ever told her a demon would be and she was grateful for him. He may have done all the horrible things he claimed in the past, but he was her friend. And he cared for her as much as he cared for his master-which was to say, more so than he likely would have preferred. She smiled up at him and leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his smooth cheek. "Thank you, Sebastian." With that, she pulled away and glided toward the dining hall.

His eyes watched her leave, hips sashaying to and fro under the silk of her skirt and his gloved hand went automatically to the place she'd kissed him. "Oh, dear." He shook his head and started back to the cabin occupied by his charges. He would have to quench this ever-growing fire in his blood and fast, before he offered to help Elizabeth in an entirely different way.

He peered through the crack in the cabin door when he reached it; spied Ciel still laying atop his coverlets like a cadaver; Menefer finally settled on her side, back to him, gown still bunched around her thighs. He made his way to her bed and tugged the gown down to her knees. Satisfied she didn't awaken, he turned to Ciel's bed and studied the boy demon lying there. He had to admit he found it strange that this 'child' could stir Elizabeth's blood the way he had. Not that he was an unattractive boy... by any means. But that he _was_ a boy, at least, he _seemed_ to be; and while Sebastian had dressed and undressed, bathed and toweled dry this boy for the last forty years or so, he couldn't say there was anything particularly appealing about his nude form. He was a noble and spoiled, and having never known hard labor was soft and effeminate under his fancy clothes. He wondered, not for the first time, if there were some way to make him grow. Or maybe some illusion or demon trick to change him physically. He wanted Elizabeth to have a _man_.

He was back at the porthole in the room, staring at nothing, thinking nothing, when Ciel finally awoke. Stretching like a cat at the edge of his bed, Sebastian turned to regard him. "I want to go for a walk, Sebastian."

"Very good, my lord," he replied and gathered the young demon's clothes together. He'd had them laundered after dinner and altered them slightly so they looked less antique. Ciel dressed himself for the most part and Sebastian helped him with the thin silk tie. He had to admit, Ciel's ability to dress himself was one of the things he had doubted over the last few decades. He was pleased to see the earl was proficient enough at this task on his own, and so perhaps, he could spend less time with the menial chore and more time doing ..._other_ things. Ciel decided to forgo the hat but took his small cane with him and when Sebastian went to follow, he held his hand up. "No. I need to think. I'd prefer to be alone. I'll call if I need you."

"Very well, my young master. If you need anything..."

"Yes, yes, I know. I'll be fine." With that, he swept out the stateroom's door and down the corridor.

Sebastian let the door close behind him and engaged the lock out of habit. Turning his attention to Menefer, who was still asleep in her bed, he drank in the exotic beauty of her for a moment before he put a gloved finger in his mouth and began pulling the object off with his teeth. She had been a willing party to his advances in the past. Surely she would not complain if he used her again. She had always known what she was to him; and while he did _care_ for her so to speak, she had primarily been an object of his lust and on the flip side, he had been hers.

He stalked to the bed, tossing his gloves and jacket on the desk in the corner and leaned over her form. She moaned in her sleep again, and turned onto her back, her breasts nearly spilling out of the front of the gown where he'd cut it, one leg bending at the knee briefly and the hem falling back to her thighs. He pinched the fabric of the hem and raised it just a few centimeters more, exposing the curve of her hip and his eyes flared like embers when her scent assaulted his nose. Her dreams had _definitely_ been of the adult variety-she was wet and ready and he hadn't even touched her yet. The front of his trousers was painfully tight when he settled on the edge of her bed, and reaching out he brushed the back of his knuckles over the moist curls at the apex of her thighs. She sighed in her sleep but didn't appear to awaken. Carefully, he tugged at the front of the gown until one soft breast fell out, and he gently ran his fingernails over the flesh, making it pucker and swell and her breath catch in her throat. His right hand rested on her hip while his left teased and pulled at her nipple and massaged her breast and she was practically dripping when he finally touched her sex.

Menefer cried out, her eyes opening to find her Marcus hovering over her, teasing her most sensitive flesh just has he had in her dreams. Her breath left her body and she fell back limp against her pillow, arching into his hands and letting him have his fun with her. She ached for him-she had since she'd awoken in the museum, but she knew better than to throw herself at him. That had never ended well in the past; and she had learned her lesson. She could wait however long she needed to, to feel him touch her again. And here he was, molesting her in her sleep and she loved every stroke and pinch of his skilled fingers.

"Do you like that?" he asked, teasingly, pumping fingers in and out as she writhed on the bed beneath him. His left hand had freed her other breast and he bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth. His sharp teeth nipped and his soft tongue soothed and Menefer could feel herself losing control very quickly. The burning in her belly was spreading over her body as she continued to arch into the thrusts of his hand, her own fingers gripping the sheets beside her as she struggled to remain conscious through the painful pleasure of it all.

"I... I want..." she gasped, not able to finish her request, but of course, he knew exactly what she wanted and he was all too pleased to give it to her, so long as she tried to ask.

"You _want_? What do you want, Menefer?" he smiled as he drew his fingers out of her and moved to kneel between her legs. He brought his hands to his belt and unbuckled it, then freed his throbbing sex from his trousers. He was long and hard as marble and she grasped him in her hands and reveled in the size of him. He was precisely like she remembered and she wasted no time guiding him to her entrance and arching into him, crying out again in pain and pleasure and pure unadulterated _sensation_.


	10. Chapter 10

**_I do not own Black Butler. Disclaim, etc._**

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Ciel was wandering the deck of the luxury liner until noon. He was obviously very deep in thought, and so no other passengers stopped him or tried to chat. He was already a very serious looking boy but so lost in his own mind, he was downright brooding and no adult that meandered past bothered to ask him where were his parents. Eventually, around 11:30 he settled in one of the deck chairs and stared out at the ocean with his cane laying across his lap. He'd lost track of his thoughts at that point, and all he could imagine was having Lizzie pinned beneath him, assaulting her mouth the way she had done his the night before.

One good turn deserved another, he decided. But that didn't solve the actual problem at hand: how did a "boy" his age have relations with a grown woman? He knew of course, the scientific details of what transpired between a woman and man... he could even grasp the more romantic notions. But his body was stunted. Elizabeth had been a married woman, and even if they hadn't loved one another, per se, her husband had had the body of a grown man and thus Ciel didn't believe he had ...a proper offering. He, at least, was not terribly impressed with his thirteen-year-old body's endowments. Which he assumed, was typical of all thirteen year old boys.

"Damn," he mumbled to himself. "If only there was some demon trick, or potion... anything to make me grow..."

The other option was de-aging Lizzie and that seemed as plausible as his first fantasy. And what would they do then? Giggle and run through the monochrome gardens at his estate in the Void? That was asking for disaster. Sebastian wouldn't be able to protect them both forever, and they would be consumed by something larger and darker than the older demon.

Someone cleared their throat next to him suddenly, and he spiraled out of his reverie. Blinking against the light of midday-and he hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes-he turned his head to regard the person who'd interrupted his train of thought. Elizabeth was seating herself on the lounge next to him, her expression guarded, and he wondered if she'd been up all night thinking the same sorts of things that had occupied his mind since he'd awakened.

"Ciel," she greeted him, somewhat flatly considering the exuberance with which she'd kissed him last night.

"Elizabeth." He sat up and faced her. "What's the matter?"

"I ...I love you, Ciel. You know that. And I think that, regardless of that emotion-maybe _because_ of that emotion-I cannot bring myself to ...be with you... _intimately_." She was looking at him with lowered lids and despite that, he thought she'd never looked more demure-or more beautiful.

"I think I understand what you mean," he replied. "I've been wracking my brain with it all morning-" he broke off as several passengers walked by "-but you have been with a man and I do not think my body can satisfy you... though it functions properly, I assure you."

She had a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth then, at his conclusion and unabashed declaration of it. It was all something she'd never in her life dreamed she'd be discussing with him. Of course, neither was she expecting he and Sebastian to appear from nowhere after so many years and knock on her door, either. She reached out and took his hand in her own, and it was some comfort to her that his hands were not much smaller than hers. He was not much shorter than she and she did feel like a little girl around him... If she closed her eyes and pretended again... but that would be as well as lying to herself that she was with Ciel-a man-and not Ciel, the ever-little-boy. She felt a sob welling up in her throat and she stood abruptly, dropping his hand. "I am sorry, Dearest. I need to go lie down. I'll see you at dinner, yes?"

His eye was confused and his head slightly tilted, but he nodded. "Yes. I'll escort you again."

She smiled and left, barely escaping before the tears started spilling down her cheeks. She drew quite the few stares in her retreat, but made it back to her stateroom without being stopped and tore off her dress and threw herself on her bed. And finally, blissful sleep decided to grace her with its presence.

Sebastian was beginning to wonder if his young master had thrown himself from the side of the ship. He and Menefer had entertained themselves for sometime, but now she was complaining of a different sort of hunger and Sebastian was lying flat on his back in her bed, staring at the ornate ceiling above him, wondering if a demon should feel so completely drained of essence. She was like a Succubus, he'd teased her, the fourth time she'd insisted, but he supposed so many years of abstinence had built up in his system and he was all too happy to comply.

Now she bustled around the room, fighting her massive mane of hair and looking for pieces of clothing she could wear to the dining room. Sebastian had obtained quite a few pieces for the three of them last night from the boutique on the ship. He sat up finally and pointed at the paper-wrapped parcels stacked on the desk. "There, Menefer. Clothes for you and Ciel."

She spun on him suddenly, beaming, and launched herself at him again, sprawling them both out on the bed. "Thank you, Marcus! Thank you!" She was laughing and kissing him repeatedly and he was drunk from their coupling and didn't want to make her stop. "But, Marcus?" She stopped the affection abruptly. He looked up at her as she shot upright, straddling his hips, the ripped gown hanging from her ample curves in all the wrong ways. "What place does one go for a haircut?"

After they had cleaned themselves up and dressed, and Sebastian had tamed her hair-which was no mean feat-he took her to the dining room and let her eat her fill. He was sure there was a barber on the ship; he'd seen the tell-tale spinning pole in the same area where he'd found the boutique. Surely there was a salon for ladies in the vicinity. On their way there after Menefer had satisfied her lust for food, he spotted Ciel, rising from one of the deck lounge chairs, looking very much bewildered. Menefer waved happily, like she so often did, and Ciel joined them in their walk to the salon.

That evening Ciel met Lizzie at her stateroom. She looked refreshed, the dark circles were all but gone, and her crimson mermaid-style evening gown hugged every curve and hollow of her fabulous body, prompting Ciel to demand she change before he took her to dinner. She laughed. He assured her it was no joke; but he held out his arm anyway, and she took it, smiling down at him, seemingly restored. She complimented him on his attire-a black suit with red waistcoat and tie-and he blushed, stating that "Sebastian had better taste" than he.

She couldn't hide the gasp that broke from her lips when she saw Menefer, her hair now resting atop her shoulders, styled and glittering with little pearl pins. Sebastian was handsomer than she'd ever seen him, in his dove gray tailcoat and his hair slicked back and tied behind his head. Menefer was dressed to match in a pearlescent gray ballgown that stuck to her torso like a second skin and flared at her hips like a taffeta waterfall. It was the second night of their voyage, but they treated it as their last; even Ciel seemed to remember how to smile.

The third and fourth night proceeded in much the same fashion, to Elizabeth's and Menefer's delight. Ciel and Elizabeth were doing well to keep their passions at bay, Sebastian noticed; but Menefer's had only been re-ignited and every time the two of them were alone, she was batting her lashes at him and before he'd even realized what he was doing, he had her up against a wall, or flat on her back on any available surface they could find. He felt like a young demon again, full of himself and able to take anything he wanted. It didn't matter that she was giving it up freely-she played the role of victim so well, it made his blood boil and he wondered occasionally if she had him under some kind of spell. Not that he particularly cared. He only hoped that he would be able to apply himself to his new work and contract once they were in New Orleans-without constant distraction.

The ship made port in the Crescent City just before dawn on the fifth day. Sebastian had already wired ahead and arranged for porters to meet them at the docks with transportation for the five of them and to carry in the luggage that had grown considerably while they had been on the ship. He was home-or what had felt closer to home than anywhere he'd ever been in the world-and he needed to keep up the appearance that he was a businessman, not a butler. He would switch roles flawlessly as he had always done, and he honestly had no intention of "using" Elizabeth as a maid as she'd insisted. He'd wired ahead for that purpose, as well. He had no idea of the state of his townhouse in the Vieux Carre, only that he retained the deeds and that he was sure it was in dire need of cleaning. He'd secured a cleaning service to ready the house for them and he'd hire a more permanent maid once he was in the city. He didn't want to rely too heavily on the aging ladies maid, Paula. She was unstable at best. He'd count himself lucky if she could keep her mouth shut about their circumstances.

The early morning air was frigid and wet, the frosty humidity burning their lungs as the five of them piled into the 1921 Nash touring car that pulled up to greet them. Menefer was intimidated at first by the loud engine and the fear shone in her eyes until Sebastian reached over the back of his seat and patted her knee comfortingly. The ladies were in the back while Ciel shared the front with Sebastian and the driver. And he was none too happy about the circumstances, either, considering it required him to ride in his "Papa's" lap. The driver was quiet and courteous, speaking a mixture of English and French-par for the course in _this_ city. Lizzie promised Menefer she'd help her with French and Menefer smiled and forgot all about her fear of the vehicle.

The ride from the docks to 809 Rue Dumaine in the French Quarter was grueling if only because the streets were crowded with cars and horses and carriages and people. It was less than a few miles, but it seemed there were millions of people slithering over and around one another, going to work, coming from bars and clubs; as many with briefcases and hung over expressions, as farmers and dock workers with crates and lunch pails. Lizzie stared out the window in wonder at it all, her face glowing in awe at the newness of her surroundings. Menefer mimicked her gaze of bewilderment on the opposite side of the car, and Paula sat in the middle, eyes closed, ignoring everything.

"Ciel! Oooh, Ciel, did you see that?" Lizzie squealed in delight as they passed a mule-drawn carriage decked out in ribbons and plumes of purples, greens, and golds. "Why is it decorated so?" she asked the driver, turning almost fully around in her seat, mesmerized by the gaudy confection of it all.

"It's Carnival here, Madame. You've arrived during Mardi Gras. I sincerely hope you were not looking for a room to rent... It's_ une tres grosse affaire _in_ dis ville._"

"Mardi Gras?" she asked, turning to Paula who was contentedly minding her own business, then meeting eyes with Menefer who was every bit excited as she. "What does one do, during Mardi Gras?"

"Eat, drink, and be merry. Get all your vices out 'fore lent," the driver chuckled, turning the car onto Rue Dumaine. "May I ask why you good folks are here?"

Sebastian piped in with the cover story they'd all come up with the last night on the ship. "I've been uprooted from London by my banking firm to help build our establishment in the area. I happened to have inherited a house here from my late aunt, but this is the first time my family has been across the pond."

The driver eyed the ladies in the back warily then looked over at Sebastian again. "I hope da one in da middle ain't your wife."

Ciel bit back a chuckle despite himself. It was a busy, filthy, dank, and musky town. But he felt burdenless here. As if he could sprout wings and fly. Something in the air-the magnolia, the banana plants, the humidity-but like Sebastian before him, he liked it and he wasn't quite sure why. He vaguely heard Sebastian assure the jovial driver that the "one in da middle" was _not_ his wife, but his wife's ladies maid. The lovely blonde was his son's tutor. And the lady Mennie-because Menefer was a mouthful and Lizzie had taken to calling her by a pet name-was his wife of fourteen years.

The driver congratulated him on having such beautiful women in his household as he pulled to a stop in front of a small townhouse of white-washed brick with slatted shutters over glass pane French doors. There were two small dormer windows peeping out of the roof and a tiny porch with three horribly steep steps. The railings were wrought iron, worked in a Spanish lace pattern and there were huge Terra cotta pots on either side of the porch spilling over with banana plants. Ciel hopped out of Sebastian's lap and stood on the sidewalk before the old townhouse, waiting on the others to climb out of the car. The driver was pulling their luggage from the rear of the car and the ladies were huddled on the curb, still discussing Mardi Gras.

"This is it, Sebastian?" Ciel said under his breath.

"It is, my lord. What do you think?"

"I think it is small."

Sebastian laughed. "Trust me, it is much bigger on the inside." Truth be told, there was a sudden apprehension taking over Sebastian's processes. A distinct pressure in his chest, a tangible sensation of nostalgia; he actually wondered if he could bring anyone into this house that he held so dear. Would he regret bringing his new "family" to this place? Would he be able to bear it that Cybille and Madame Faustine, Aimee and Lucien were here no longer? Did their ghosts remain? At least it wasn't the cottage at Belle Chasse, he reminded himself. That place had been lost during the storm of 1856 along with all of it's horrible memories. _Yes_, he decided, he could bear it here, in the Quarter, where so many of the fond memories lingered. The cottage held the end of his life with Cybille-their marriage was the only good thing that had happened in that house-the end of his life as a human, the end of his wife, the wails of her pain in childbirth... the doctor that handed him the swaddled lifeless form of his son.

"...papa? _Papa_?" Ciel was calling him. He knew he needed to focus. His eyes would give him away... but all he could see was the tiny bundle he'd held in his arms-perfect. _Human_.

Ciel reached out and grasped his sleeve, yanking him out of his past. "_Father_ _Dearest_."

"I'm sorry, Ciel," he snapped to, afraid he'd been lost in his own mind for too long. "What is it, son?"

"We're ready to go in now, Papa. The driver is waiting."

Sebastian plastered a convincing smile on his face and turned, apologizing to the driver and handing him a sealed envelope with his fee inside. "I always get so worked up here... I'm afraid I lost myself for a moment."

"I understand, mon ami. No apology necessary. You spent a lot of time here in your younger days, non?"

"Not enough, I think."


	11. Chapter 11

**_I do not own Black Butler, etc. etc._**

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Ciel was amazed at the interior of the French style townhouse-the size dwarfed the exterior as if some magic was afoot. It was exceedingly deep, spotless antiques practically littered every surface, and every room was huge and lavishly furnished. The very back of the house was an open-air dining room, the back wall lined with half a dozen French doors that opened into a jungle courtyard. On the other side of that jungle was another two-story house that Sebastian explained was the kitchen and servants' quarters. This was where Aimee had lived and cooked their meals and where Lucien had found her lifeless in her bed. The bed had been removed, of course; most of the original furnishings had been after Lucien had let the place go to rot.

The kitchen was neat and fully stocked, Elizabeth was delighted to see, and the servants' rooms upstairs were very nearly as luxurious as the main house rooms. She would be staying here with Paula, regardless of Sebastian's refusal to let her play maid. It wouldn't be conscientious for a tutor to live in the main house with her student's family. And the three rooms above the kitchen were every bit as comfortable as her house in London had been. Sebastian said he'd have a contractor come the following week to make the middle bedroom into a nice bath for them. She wondered if he was aware that he was a demon and therefore should not be the most gracious and amiable person she knew. She didn't call him out on it though. She wanted that bath.

Ciel found a room to settle in. It had a nice masculine air about it, with dark mahogany furniture and blue trappings. The window was draped in light and dark shades of blue fabric, the linens were varying shades of blue, and there was an ornate silk rug beneath the bed in grays and blues. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed, piecing together all the details of the story Sebastian had told him of Rene Corbeau and his life here. He could see it like a picture show behind his eyelids and it wasn't long before he'd drifted off.

Menefer, of course, did not know of the life Sebastian had led in this house-only that her Marcus had lived an interminable life in a great many places. She understood that this had been his home at one point in his past. She did not understand why he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her, or why he seemed reluctant to touch her now that they were "home".

She followed him mutely as he gave a small tour of the house; watched as he rolled up his sleeves and with his demonic speed and strength, organized everyone's belongings in their respective areas. She stayed out of his way when some men from a lawfirm came to see his deeds and she even retreated when he said, "Mennie, dear, would you go check on Ciel? I need to handle some business and I haven't seen him since he wandered down the hall."

He was playing the roll of businessman/father superbly well. She wondered when he'd play the roll of husband. She'd never admit it to him, but she loved him dangerously deeply. She knew he used her body and even admired her presence of mind and intelligence and wit. But he didn't love her. And she suspected now, that this place had something to do with why he would never love her. She couldn't have known of course, that the things that had transpired in this house had been the first time he'd ever accepted human comfort. That this house had seen him at his weakest emotionally; at his strongest when he discovered the emotion that he'd thought stripped of him forever after the Fall. This house had sheltered the first family he'd ever known, had seen a demon become a human, had rung with laughter and been filled with passion and tears. There was no way she could have known he'd second guess everything he'd done since they'd fled London. She didn't know she was literally standing inside his heart.

She quietly padded down the carpeted hallway, reveling for a moment in the feel of the lush knotted silk between her toes, and peeping in every door she passed, she finally found Ciel in a smaller room on the left, curled up on a lavish four-poster and snoring ever so lightly. She smiled despite herself and decided he had the right idea. Sebastian had moved their things to the largest bedroom across the hall and she wandered in there, admiring all the ornaments and decoration in the room. Its walls were white and the furniture was painted to have a distressed look. There were green accents in this room, in varying shades, like the blues in Ciel's room. The bed was large and instead of a four-poster canopy like Ciel's, had a ring hanging from an intricately carved crown moulding piece in the ceiling above it and was draped with yards and yards of mosquito netting. Menefer wondered how the demon could provide the things for her that he had and not feel an inkling of emotion. She pushed back the netting and crawled into the center of the huge bed, curled her knees into her chest and slept.

_Just before Menefer was eleven, her Roman Legionnaire reappeared at the temple. He looked different than she remembered; his hair was longer, he looked thinner. But like a starved dog, he looked far more vicious than a healthy one. She was skeptical at best when the priest beckoned her over to greet her "god". Ankhshunamun had heard her tales of this Roman soldier's glorious deeds and he found it all too amusing that she would shy away from him at his homecoming._

_The old priest was a good man, and he'd treated her well, even if he had awoken the next morning having forgotten that he'd taken in a street rat with a broken hand the night before. Her hand had healed luckily, and with enough training she was told she might be able to feel it again one day. The younger priests and followers in the temple were teaching her exercises and martial arts and she seemed to have a proficiency for it-but for the hand she could not feel, she continually dropped her weapons. Ankhshunamun recommended the bow-staff. She loved it._

She_ was certainly healthier than _he_ remembered, the demon thought as he approached the gilded columns of the Temple of Isis. Her hand appeared to have healed-she was sparring rather viciously with a boy her age near the lotus pond in front of the temple. He made his way up the steps without drawing her attention and was immediately confronted by the old priest again. Marcus had been remembered. And Menefer had been running her mouth, he realized rather quickly, after the old man greeted him._

_"If it isn't little Menefer's god!" he exclaimed, holding his arms out in welcome. He seemed genuine enough, Marcus thought, so the demon didn't argue. He supposed he could be a god if he'd wanted to, at least, to these people. It was his own kind, after all, that were worshiped as such. He clasped hands with the priest and allowed himself to be ushered deeper within the temple. "I am sure you are wondering how she is doing. She has a very strong mind. She is quite gifted there. She has been learning with our scribes and can already keep pace with the ones that have been studying here for several years. She is also quite athletic," he chuckled, offering Marcus a seat in one of the back rooms. The old priest called for a boy to bring them _henqet_, and Marcus politely declined. "The mouth of a perfectly contented man is filled with beer," the old man advised, and Marcus knew he couldn't decline again. He nodded solemnly and untied his cloak, draping it over one of the stools in the room before seating himself._

_The boy returned moments later with two earthen jugs of Egyptian beer and placed them on the stone slab that served as a table between the old priest and the Legionnaire. "Are your duties fulfilled in your homeland?" the priest asked, trying to make conversation. The haggard looking soldier across from him was plainly not a talkative one._

_"You could say that," he answered vaguely. "I have returned to see Menefer. I hope to stay here. At least for a time..."_

_The priest lowered his voice and leaned closer to the demon. "Are you truly a god as she claims?"_

_Marcus lifted his eyes to meet those of the priest and made a split-second decision. He let his irises flare their hellish red for only a breath of a moment, and the priest jumped backward in his stool and nearly toppled off the other side. "Who _are_ you?" he gasped, his face quickly draining of color._

_"I suppose I am a god of death."_

_The priest stood abruptly, prepared to do battle with the demon if the matter escalated. "You've come for Menefer? But why _save_ her?"_

_"I haven't come to kill her, you old fool. I've come to make her a pharaoh."_

_The priest stared at him for several moments, his mouth agape, his eyes huge with wonder. "A pharaoh?" he muttered finally, and re-seating himself, reached for his beer and up-ended the jug. "Impossible! She could never..."_

_"She could be as much a pharaoh as the fool on the throne as we speak," the demon countered, leaning toward the old man as much to get his point across as to see the fear in his eyes at the proximity. "If she becomes his favorite, he'll marry her. No matter her lineage. And a queen is more powerful if only that she pulls his strings."_

_"You mean to put her in the royal harem?" the priest spat under his breath. "She is training to be a priestess of Isis!"_

_"There is no reason she cannot be both," Marcus pointed out. "The pharaoh prizes above all else women who are faithful to his patron goddess and warriors with tits."_

_The old priest's face turned crimson and beer flew from his nostrils. He could not deny that. It was no secret to noble nor commoner that the king loved women that could fight as he was constantly holding tournaments among the warrior women in the palace. He had several women in his own army and his current queen was one of the champions of his games._

_"When?" the priest asked, giving up the fight. "She is too young now. At best, she will be prepared in five years."_

_"Then have her prepared in five years," Marcus replied, reaching across the table and pushing his henqet in front of the priest. He stood abruptly, causing the old man to start, and snatched his cloak from the stool next to him. Throwing it over his shoulder, he left the room. He found his way back out into the overpowering sunlight easily enough without a guide. Menefer and her sparring partner appeared to be taking a break. They were both waist deep in the pool in front of the temple splashing water at one another and laughing as children were wont to do. The old priest appeared behind him and called out to her, beckoning her over to greet her guest._

_Menefer climbed out of the pool and rushed part way to the two men before she realized that Marcus was her 'guest'. The look he'd turned on her caused her to slow her steps, and she completed her approach cautiously, wondering at the man she almost didn't recognize. He was the right height, dressed as Marcus had been dressed the night he'd delivered her to the temple-minus his armor and weapons-in a faded red tunic that reached his mid-thigh and displayed powerful legs and arms. But he was thinner, his muscle tone more pronounced due to his loss of weight. His hair was longer, unkempt, unwashed. It hung over his face where it wasn't quite long enough to tuck behind his ears. Rust colored eyes under thick black lashes stared at her with indecipherable intent. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but the look he was giving her could've withered the spirit of a Nile crocodile. She reached the base of the steps and gazed up at the two men silently._

_"Do you know who this is, Menefer?" the old man asked, reaching out to her, beckoning her up the steps. Tentatively, she took his hand and came up to his side, taking refuge from this man she knew and yet didn't, on the opposite side of the larger of the two men. She peered around the flowing translucent robes of the the priest and met the eyes of the beautiful man she'd insisted was a god. "Marcus Brutus. Who saved me. And I am grateful," she whispered, "But he is not a benevolent god."_

_The priest bit back a laugh. "You are correct, my child. He says he is a god of death. But he has come to watch you grow. To spend some time here with you. He has plans for you, my dear."_

_"What kinds of plans?" she asked warily, still clutching to the old man's garments._

_Marcus Brutus dropped to one knee and smiled despite himself. Holding the child's gaze, he _willed_ her to him, reaching out a hand that she took, though her face was etched in worry and fear as he pulled her over to him. "Is this the same child that I plucked from the desert sands and offered refuge? She was fearless and wild. This girl is timid and frightened. What have you done to my Menefer?"_

_The priest chuckled as the girl's face turned scarlet at the demon's goading. "It is me! I am Menefer! I'm not afraid of you, god of death. I just want to know what plans..." she trailed off, allowing Marcus to pull her against him as he stood._

_"I want you to be the best warrior in this temple by the end of the year," he said, resting his large hand flat atop her mass of black curls. "I want you to be the most knowledgeable student in Egypt by the end of the next year. And I want you to be a young lady with unequaled and impeccable manners by the end of the third year. By the end of the fourth, I expect you to be a woman, not a girl. In five years, I am going to introduce you to the pharaoh and he is going to take you into the palace. After that, it is your duty-nay, your _fate_-to be the queen of Egypt. And I am going to help you rule it."_

_She giggled despite herself. "You are serious?"_

_"Very." He looked down at her, his red-brown eyes smiling into earthen orbs. She couldn't help but believe him._

_"I can do that."_

_"I am relieved that you are confident in your ability to complete these tasks," he whispered, patting her on the head and lifting his gaze to the forgotten priest next to them on the step. "You can handle this, I assume?"_

_"Yes, I think I can," the old man assured him. "She is already far ahead of the curve when it comes to fighting and academics. The hard part will be making her a convincingly well-bred woman."_

_Menefer huffed and spun around, sailing off the high steps into the sand and launching herself at the boy who was waiting near the pool to continue their sparring session. She summarily decimated him in mere moments, and still pouting, harrumphed her way around the side of the temple out of sight._

_The demon and the priest looked at one another and laughed._

Menefer awoke to darkness. She was cocooned in the soft mosquito netting, the linen sheets cool beneath her; the chirping music of crickets wafting into the room from the cracked window. She lay unmoving for what seemed an eternity, remembering her past and the events that led to her early demise; waking in that display case in the British Museum and her Marcus there to rescue her yet again. She owed him too much, she knew. She'd lost count of the debacles from which he'd plucked her. She knew in all reality, he owed her nothing. So the best thing she could do for him, she reckoned, was to be a beautiful and obedient wife to him when he was among his peers. Having found her new resolve, she crawled out from the netting and found a change of clothes. She heard musical laughter coming from the back of the house and knew it was Lizzie. She was very nearly as enamored with Elizabeth as she was with Marcus, she realized. But Lizzie made her feel welcomed and loved, so she was the one to whom Menefer needed to cling.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler. Wish I did. I _****don't.****_ Thank you all for your adds/favorites!_**

**_I know I usually update on Mondays, but it's been a rough couple of days. At least, I'm only a day late, non?_**

**_Thanks for reading and please review!_**

Menefer made her way to the back of the house, following the peals of laughter she knew were coming from the open-air dining room at the rear. The long cherry-stained table was aglow with all manner of candles, lit up as if the table itself was afire. Elizabeth sat at the far right end of the table, face ruddy and eyes half-glazed, laughing up a storm with a jar of clear liquid as her only companion. Menefer padded over to the table, silent on bare feet, and pulled out the chair nearest Elizabeth and sat. It was moments later when Lizzie actually noticed her silent companion and turned on her, offering the jar to the Egyptian.

"Mennie!" she exclaimed, pushing the liquid across the small gap between them, "drink some! Bassy brought it to me to calm my nerves he said... I think he just wanted me to pass out! It's hellishly potent!"

Menefer quietly drew the jar closer to her and leaned in, sniffing at it. It had the distinct scent of alcohol, but nothing overtly curious beyond that. "What is it?" she asked, dipping her finger in the mouth of the jar and sticking it in her mouth.

"He called it 'moonshine'..." Lizzie said in a theatrical whisper. Menefer knew she had to be good and drunk at that point. "Moooooonshiiiiiiine..." she said again, drawing the word out ridiculously, then flinging her head back over her chair she let out another bout of whoops and guffaws, eyes closed against the flames of the hundred candles she'd lit on the table.

Whatever it was, it had certainly reduced Elizabeth Middleford to a broken idiot, so Menefer lifted the jar and turned it up, taking two huge gulps before she choked and slammed the glass back down, gasping and nearly spewing the stuff right back out. Ooh, but it was _potent_; she actually felt her eyes crossing and had to gather the presence of mind to straighten them. Lizzie was pointing a finger at her and laughing.

"Vile, isn't it?" she exclaimed happily, reaching for the jar again and taking a stout drink. She coughed and sputtered, but smiled and pushed the foul stuff back at Menefer. "You need this as much as I do, I think," she pointed out, rather acutely considering her current mental state. "I think we need to get good and drunk and talk about our mutual problems."

"I think you are already good and drunk, Lizzie," Menefer offered, taking another swallow of moonshine. "But yes. We must share our problems. It is what friends do, yes?"

"Yes, Dearest. It is what friends do." Lizzie's glassy stare was leveled at the blaze of candles on the table now, her face flat and lips drawn taut over her teeth. Menefer could tell she was excruciatingly upset over something, but she had no idea what could have put her in such a mood.

"Where is everyone?" Menefer asked, pushing the jar of moonshine to the half-way point between Lizzie and herself on the table.

"Ciel is still curled in his bed, sleeping away his fears and pain in his plush prison. Sebastian, or your Marcus as you call him, has gone to the bank where his 'Contract' will be employed to start putting together ...whatever one puts together when one is a banker." Lizzie huffed and drew the jar of liquor across the table. "Paula, my ever-faithful maid, has apparently lost her mind and refuses to come out of her room." She took a draw from the jar. "I'm a teenager trapped in a woman's body and the one I love is a man trapped in a teenager's body."

Menefer smiled despite herself. She of course, understood what Elizabeth was saying. She knew that she and Ciel had been betrothed in her youth and that with Ciel's sudden transformation to demon, Lizzie was having a hard time facing her 'immoral' thoughts concerning the man-child.

"At least you know he loves you in return, no?" the Egyptian replied, unable to lift her eyes to the blonde sitting next to her. "Marcus has never loved me. We have used each other for many things. Many reasons. Always, it has ended the same. In darkness and pain. But only for me."

"Oh, you poor creature," Lizzie sighed, reaching over and taking Menefer's hands in her own. "I never even wondered at that. True, Sebastian doesn't seem someone to actually ever love another being... But I had no idea you were in love with him. I don't know ...maybe I should have guessed it. You have had that look in your eye when you saw him, I know. I'm sorry, Dearest. It's just that... Well, _every_ woman looks at him that way, you know?"

Menefer found herself laughing. "I have noticed that, yes. But it is not their fault. He is..." she trailed off, not quite knowing exactly how to describe the demon in one word.

"He is positively _sinful_."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Menefer conceded. "Beautiful, yes. But that does not truly cover it, does it?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Not by half."

"But on the ship we..." Menefer stalled for a moment while Lizzie's eyes grew in circumference. "We had time together," she improvised. "A lot of time. A lot of _times_."

"And?"

"And now, he looks through me. He has not spoken to me since we arrived except to say, 'Go find Ciel'."

"Really? I can't imagine what's gotten into him since we settled in..."

"I know." A new voice from the entrance into the dining room lent its tone to the discussion.

Lizzie and Menefer both snapped around to find Ciel, rumpled and tired-looking, standing in the archway leading into the dining area, ablaze with light and making his pale skin glow with it.

He dragged his feet as he sauntered into the dining room, looking every bit the child awakened against his will. The candles on the table were flickering against his alabaster complexion, highlighting his high cheekbones but alternately deepening the hollows beneath his eye and nose and lips, making him appear all the more demonic. Menefer thought he was frightening. Lizzie thought he was frighteningly beautiful. He pulled out the chair opposite Menefer and directly to Lizzie's right, hopping into it and pretending his feet touched the floor beneath them. He was sick to death of being a child. He reached for the jar the women had been sharing and took a tentative sip of the liquid fire. Coughing for moment after he swallowed, he slammed the glass back down on the table. "God's teeth, woman! What is this shit?"

Menefer and Elizabeth both chorused flatly, "Moooooonshiiiiiiine."

To his credit, he regained his composure quickly, and folding his hands neatly on the table's surface, he leaned in and took a deep breath. "Some years ago, Sebastian told me about this house. About it's significance in his past. And about the people he shared it with. I'm not terribly fond of repeating stories that were told to me in confidence. However, I believe you both need to understand the stigma that comes with this place. And perhaps, had you known before we left London, you may have opted not to come at all..."

Elizabeth and Menefer found themselves leaning further into the table, closer to this source of knowledge; the revelation of a mystery they didn't even know they craved. Ciel had to bite back a grin as he watched the two women clasp hands atop the cherry table as their eyes grew larger and larger.

"It was the late 1700s when he was summoned up to this area and bid to care for the child of a dying slave. The girl was mulatto and both families shunned her. The mother died in childbirth moments after she made her contract. Sebastian-or Rene as he was called then-took the child in and raised her in this house. The old woman who owned the place gave it over to him when she passed and he lived here with her servant Aimee and the servant's son Lucien, who was born days after the girl he had been contracted to raise. He had a family here; or rather, I think, he learned what a family was while he was here. He didn't raise the girl with any notion of making himself her father, mind you. And he was hell-bent on proving the blackness of his heart the whole time, judging from the way he told the story to me..."

Menefer and Lizzie were still clasping hands, leaning in toward the boy demon. The blazing candles still flickered on his skin, casting strange shapes and shadows all around them; Elizabeth wondered if this dining room had looked like this long ago-ablaze with inconsistent light while Sebastian and his "family" gathered around for supper...

"The point is, I suppose, that his past-probably the most profound moments of his past-all happened where we are right now. While I've always believed he may have had a soft spot for me, or Lizzie, or any number of our old acquaintances, I think this is where he learned to care for humans. This is where he learned to care, at all. He made himself a family here, though probably not by any choice of his own, and eventually fell in love in this house. With a human. When he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he could not keep her."

Menefer's eyes glistened with tears, sad for her Marcus more than for herself. She'd always known he hadn't loved her. Cared for her in a way, perhaps, the way he cared for Ciel and Lizzie, but now she understood why, at least, he'd never love her. And the pain in Ciel's voice as he recounted this tale for his demon counterpart, made her all right with that decision. She could understand why he'd never love anyone. And it was okay if she loved him, because it wasn't as if he was incapable of giving love; only that he felt incapable of receiving it. She glanced over at Lizzie, who still linked her fingers together with her own, and saw the candlelight glinting off the tell-tale rivulets of tears that had fallen from her eyes. She was as affected by the story as Menefer was, and why shouldn't she be? She loved Sebastian, too. Perhaps not the same kind of love Menefer felt for the demon, but it was a tragic love, nonetheless. And that seemed to be the only love the demon would ever know.

"The plan he'd contrived to seal his contract was to marry the girl off to the servant's son. She'd be taken care of for the rest of her life, in theory, and that was what her mother had contracted him _for_. The boy grew to be unreliable at best, however, and much to Sebastian's chagrin, the girl grew to be 'the most beautiful woman' he'd ever seen. Lucien accused him waiting for her to grow to womanhood so he could have her for himself, and while that had never been his intention, he realized soon thereafter, that he _had_ done that-watched her grow, and spoiled her, and she weakened his resolve to not care for a human. Of course, she was infatuated with him from a young age. But as she grew, she fell deeply in love with him. And I suspect, much to his dismay, he with her.

"Long story short, though-he gave into his emotions and married the girl himself. A contract to keep him on Surface, and a contract to seal the girl's happiness as dictated by her mother. I don't know how long they lived together. He bought a cottage outside the city and they hid away there from Lucien, who had gone mad with his want for her. She was with child before they married and I know she died in childbirth, as her mother had done with her. Sebastian never spoke of the child, though. I do not know whether it lived or died with its mother. Sebastian retreated to the Void for a while. He did say he came back here years later and bought this house back from Lucien-he'd given it to him and his mother to placate the boy. He said he'd had to have it gutted and refurnished. That's the extent of my knowledge, ladies. So, Menefer, do not trouble yourself with Sebastian's emotions-none of us will ever understand his reason, so it's best to love him from a distance, I think."

Menefer found herself nodding, though this was the same conclusion she'd reached before Ciel decided to reveal the epic of Sebastian's past. Elizabeth was grasping Ciel's hand, too, now, tears still streaming down her face. She was silent but for the occasional broken intake of breath, and she hadn't touched the jar of liquor since he'd begun. Menefer gave Lizzie's hand a squeeze and moved to stand from the table, suddenly wanting nothing more than to crawl back in her netted cocoon, wind herself up in the soft linens and wait there for Sebastian to come home.

Lizzie acknowledged her exit, lifting her eyes to meet the chocolate pools on the Egyptian's gorgeous face, and nodded. "Good night, Dearest. I think you and I shall spend the day together tomorrow. We should shop and eat and find all manner of things to distract us, hmm?"

"Yes, Lizzie. All manner of things." Menefer's smile was sad, but hopeful. She wandered back down the hall to the bedroom, dragging the tip of her finger along the white wooden chair rail that lined the hallway. She imagined her Marcus here, with a beautiful pregnant wife and knew that he had smiled in genuine happiness at least once in his interminably long life. And somehow, that helped the pain in her own heart.

Elizabeth still sat next to Ciel at the long dining room table. Her head was bowed into her arms, her hand still clasping his slightly smaller one somewhere between them. He was silent, afraid to stir up any unstable emotions she may be experiencing. She was silent, afraid to speak lest those emotions come barreling to the surface. Something had been plaguing him, though. He'd had several dreams about Elizabeth. Intimate dreams. Dreams in which he had been different. Not small, or childlike, or in some cases, even remotely human. When he awoke that evening, he suddenly remembered something he felt was substantial. Sebastian had a demonic form that did not change. Only his human form was a variant; one that relied heavily on both the conscious and subconscious of his human summoners. Granted, Sebastian had always been a demon. Ciel had been transformed due to the twisted wish of a spoiled and wretched little boy. But ...did it matter? A demon was a demon, no matter how one sliced it. So, a demon should have a demonic form, no? Ciel was acutely aware that he may have been grasping at straws. But this was most certainly a topic he needed to address with Sebastian as soon as he returned. Which was his original intent for finally getting up out of the amazing comfort of the feather bed he'd claimed as his own.

But he found himself sitting here with Elizabeth and since that was what happened to be on his mind, he felt he owed her at least so much that he should tell her where his thoughts were taking him. "Lizzie..."

Slowly, she raised her tear streaked face to meet his, squinting against the blaze of candles that she'd lit and somewhere in the back of her sober mind, wondered what in the hell had possessed her to light a hundred candles on the priceless cherry stained dining table. "Yes, Dearest?" she replied, voice raspy from sobbing at the tragic tale of her friend the demon butler. Absently, she lifted the hand that wasn't clasping Ciel's to wipe the wet tracks from her face. She vaguely wondered if her makeup was alright.

Ciel squeezed her hand briefly and pulled away to scrub at his face with exhaustion and uncertainty. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe... perhaps it's nothing more than useless dreams on my part... But nonetheless. I've been going over and over in my head the things Sebastian has taught me about demons. And I think... I do not know _how_, but I think... that I may not be so trapped in this body as I'd imagined."

Elizabeth's head snapped up so quickly she made herself sick for a moment. "Not trapped?" She sniffled involuntarily and snatched her empty hand back across the table and into her lap. "But Sebastian-" she nearly admitted to having had a conversation with the elder demon about their ...relationship. "He hasn't said anything about being able to ...change?" she amended her statement before she gave herself away. She didn't want Ciel to be offended or worse-humiliated-that she had sought help from his butler before they'd had one good conversation about their predicament.

"He's alluded to more than I can even remember. And he may never tell me unless I order him to do so. But he has said something in the past about demons not being tied to a singular appearance. I know he himself changes subtly each time he is summoned to the Surface. He can change his appearance at will now, even contracted to me-I've seen him do so. It's minor things. He can make his hair long or short. Change the color of his surroundings-like his clothes or the furniture in a room. It's some sort of demon magic. I have no mastery of these skills, however. I do not know that I am capable, considering how I ...became what I am."

"But, in essence, you became a demon as Sebastian became a demon. I mean," Lizzie straightened in her seat, suddenly beyond sober, "No one is born a demon, no? Sebastian said he was a Fallen. One of the original angels of God cast out during the war between God and Lucifer. When they were thrown to Earth to dwell here till Judgment, that is when they became demons. They weren't born demonic. And God didn't create them that way. It was the act of being cast out of Paradise that made the Fallen what they were. So, essentially, you and Sebastian were made demonic by the same act of being cast out. Your soul was cast out of both heaven and hell, presumably, and that is the act that made you a demon."

Ciel gazed at Elizabeth for sometime before he remembered how to speak. "Lizzie. You're brilliant."

"Oh, heavens, no, Dearest. I'm just much more cognizant when I'm drunk." She giggled. "And I'm very happy that you might not have to always be a boy." She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. "I'm very excited about that, actually."

Ciel grinned despite himself. She was apparently done with her philosophically-induced sobriety and faced with this new impending adventure of 'Make Ciel an Adult', she was back to being loose-lipped and talking with a slight slur. Which, of course, he found adorable. "I am glad to hear that, Lizzy."

"I can't wait, really, Ciel..." her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her face slowly starting to droop back toward the surface of the table.

Ciel reached out a hand and rested his palm atop her mass of honey-colored curls, scratching lightly at her scalp and making her mewl appreciatively in the back of her throat. Then he heard her whisper, "There's only so much a woman can do for herself, you know."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Disclaim, Disclaim, Disclaim._**

**_Do not own, Not making money, etc., etc._**

**_This chapter includes Adult material. Rated M for content. Do not continue unless over 18 years of age (who am I kidding?) or if sex offends you. Trust me, you will be VERY offended. No, Seriously. This chapter is basically one big sex scene._**

**_Thank you all who have followed/favorited. I am still sad that no one seems to be reviewing :( But I know my work is being read-it's only the 7th and I've had over 230 views. Just keep in mind, reviews are confirmation that I know you're enjoying what you're reading. If I think you don't like it, I might _****stop (O.o)**

Sebastian let himself in one of the French doors in the front of the house. There were four and he chose one on the side where the study had been placed (which used to be Madame Faustine's old bedroom). He'd been gone for most of the night-which had not been his intention, of course, but he'd made tremendous headway in setting up the filing systems and books and accounts he'd need to fulfill his obligation to his new contract. The pinkish-orange glow of the sun was threatening the horizon as he slipped inside, silent lest he wake the denizens of the house, and let the lock click softly behind him**.** There were heavy drapes over each of the French doors in the front of the house and he pulled those closed against the dull light once he'd dropped his leather case and keys on the desk in the study.

He made his way around the desk to the door in the back of the room and out into the hallway as silently as he'd entered the house. There was a straight shot from there into the rear of the house where the huge dining room opened up into the overgrown courtyard. He smiled at the sight of Elizabeth and Ciel there, at the extravagant cherry-stained table, both heads pressed against the grain of the wood table top, Ciel's brow furrowed in some terribly serious expression as he dreamed, and Elizabeth's mouth slightly agape, a tiny puddle of drool beneath her lips. The majority of the table had been covered at some point in the night with at least a hundred candles, all white, all in different shapes and sizes and all melted down drastically as if they'd been left alight throughout the entire night.

"How deplorably dangerous..." he muttered. One or two were still burning, he saw with dismay, and made his way silently forward to the table and leaning over, blew them out. He turned to regard his sleeping master and the Mistress Elizabeth with a sour look on his face. "You could have burned to death and my house with you. I'll not be leaving you with this anymore," he mumbled and reached over, snatching the jar of moonshine up from the table between them, noticed their locked hands on the surface of the table, and found himself smiling despite his better judgment. He left them where they were and wandered back down the hallway to the room he'd set up for Menefer.

To all outward appearance, it was a room for a husband and wife, decorated in the appropriate balance of masculine to feminine; mostly neutral toned furniture and trappings and things that he knew Menefer would enjoy. He had put some thought into this, seeing as she would be a significant addition to their little party, and it certainly didn't hurt that he'd anticipated their relationship would take a turn for the intimate as it somehow always had. But, since he'd brought her here-no, since _all_ of them had arrived here-he'd found himself looking on his companions with something akin to distaste.

He was well aware of the reason behind it, of course. And he truly felt as though he couldn't help but feel offended in someway by having the people in this modern part of his life dwelling in the most significant part of his past. He'd resigned himself to get over it. His past was done and over. The people he'd cared for-the wife he'd loved-were gone and nothing in this world or the next could bring them back to him.

He turned the corner of the doorway and gazed at the beautiful Egyptian lying in his bed. He realized with a start that he'd yet to find her something suitable to sleep in. Not that he really minded that she slept in the nude. She'd always preferred that state of undress, at any rate. Caramel skin contrasted sharply with the pristine white sheets and the translucent mosquito netting folded around the bed made her somehow demure and unbelievably erotic at the same time.

Sebastian walked fully into the room, and pushed the door closed behind him. Settling himself carefully on the edge of the bed, without waking the umber-skinned goddess in it, he leaned down and untied his shoes, kicking them off and sliding them partly under the edge of the nightstand on the side of the bed. He peeled off socks and gloves, unbuttoned sleeves, dropped cuff-links into the small wooden box on the top of said nightstand. There was something irritatingly _normal_ about what he was doing. Undressing himself to lie in bed. For how long? Could he stomach the memories of Cybille in this house while he bedded another woman?

This all reeked of a routine he hadn't found himself in in over a century. He'd come home to Cybille every night she'd lived and loved him, and perform this same routine. Undress, bathe, make love, pretend to sleep. Pretend to be human. Hold her against his nakedness while she slumbered and worry about the birth of their child. He would relish the little kicks he could feel against his side when he held her, but part of him hated himself for it. The darkest part of him detested that game where he played the happy human and occasionally, at night when Cybille was unconscious he would get up, and dress, and go outside to the woods around their cottage and find some hapless animal to kill. He'd sneak back in and clean himself and crawl back in the bed with her and wonder how he could love something so deeply and yet be terrified at it's complete insignificance in the grand scheme of things.

He stopped unbuttoning his shirt when he reached the top of his trousers. He stared at the naked woman in his bed. She was long and lean, with gently curving hips and fleshy muscular thighs. Her breasts were heavy but not overly large, and her waist small and tapered, muscled as only a warrior woman's could be. Her eyes were closed in less than blissful sleep and her wide mouth was parted just so, exposing perfect white teeth. The carnelian obelisk rested in the hollow of her throat and her perfect bosom rose and fell gently with shallow breaths. One hand fisted in the black curls that haloed her head and the other grasped the linen sheet that only partly covered her exquisite nudity. Sebastian couldn't stop himself from superimposing Cybille's face over Menefer's. They were built similarly, though Menefer was far taller and Cybille had been blonde; but lying there motionless, it wasn't so difficult for him to do.

He was hard now. He snatched the tails of his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and tossed the offending garment to the floor. Naked but for his pants that were growing tighter by the minute, he ripped the mosquito netting open and startled Menefer from her slumber. She bit back a scream when her eyes focused on the flaming red orbs in the demon's face as he hovered over her. She was panicked and the demon couldn't blame her for that. She was, after all, about to be raped.

Sebastian reached down and tore the linen sheet from her hand, then grasping the flesh of her hips painfully, he tossed her over to land on her belly in the center of the bed. He climbed in behind her and as she was trying to drag herself up on her hands and knees, he grabbed her hips again and pulled her bottom flush against his arousal. "I know you won't scream, Menefer. Can I trust you?" he growled, leaning in and breathing into the hair that fell over her ear. His breath was like liquid fire as it snaked into her ear and though she was afraid, she quaked with longing, as well.

"No. This Menefer will not." She pressed her face into the sheets beneath her, torn between reveling in the feel of his marble-hard torso pressed against her back and terrified of the marble column that pressed against her bottom through the fabric of his trousers. She hated herself for wanting to be his outlet-hated that she was content if he could close his eyes and pretend that she was someone else. She hated herself for loving him, as twisted as her love was. But she hated him, too. She hated him because she couldn't tell him 'no.'

The warmth of his hardened body left her back and she heard the tell-tale sound of rustling fabric as he opened the front of his trousers and leaned back into her, his flesh aflame with his arousal and pressing into her most sensitive spot. He was rock-hard and it felt as though she was being penetrated by an iron poker left too long in a fire. Tears fell from her eyes when she squeezed them shut and she buried her face in the sheets to stifle her cry of pain. He was deceptively slow at first, burying himself inside her, fingers grasping her hips so tightly she knew she'd be bruised.

He sank in, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips at her velvet warmth as she enveloped him; pushing into her until he was fully sheathed and his hips met her backside flush, skin to skin. Her bottom was pointed up in the air and her head down against the bed and he thought that was a very appropriate submissive position for her to assume considering the current state of affairs. He relished the feel of her around him for another moment, staring at the back of her head and trying with all his might to make her _blonde_. He closed his hellish eyes and withdrew a fraction, plunging back in hard enough to make her choke back a sob. Cybille _never_ sobbed. This isn't going to work, he thought, pulling out and driving back in yet again. She didn't sob this time. In fact, if he had to hazard a guess, she was even enjoying this-subconsciously, he was sure. He pulled back again and she suddenly clamped down on him with her inner muscles and he realized she was substantially wetter than she had been when he'd first pushed inside her. Another shuddering groan escaped his lips and he rammed himself in to the hilt, grinding against her backside and drawing a moan from her mouth. Her voice was lower, gravelly compared to Cybille's. But as long as all she did was moan... _This could work after all._

Marcus had always been rough with her. In all the years they had spent together, she couldn't remember a single time when he'd been gentle and loving when she was in his bed. He was a superb lover, but not the kind to cuddle after the act. Menefer had never questioned his preferences, deciding early into their so-called relationship that she didn't care if he took her roughly or caressed her to her peak-as long as she was allowed to share his bed, it didn't matter. In fact, the gentlest she could remember him being was on the ship when they made the crossing and she'd awoken from fitful dreams of their past to him fondling her in her sleep.

Remembering that suddenly, as the demon plunged into her, awakened her own arousal and she clamped down, daring him to wake up and realize that it wasn't his beloved human wife he was with. Proving herself somewhat in control of her own emotions, she moaned at the sensation of having him fill her-a sensation she had always cherished, even if he had not.

She was steadier now, and she worked her way up to her elbows as he ground against her, his fingers still gripping painfully into the flesh of her hips. She rolled her hips a bit against him and his grip lessened instinctually; he leaned over her and snaked his arms around her middle, pulling her up backwards against his steely physique and proceeded to lift her up and drop her back down on his rigid arousal over and over again until sparks were bursting behind her eyelids and pressure was coiling in her belly.

Sebastian nuzzled through the hair at her neck and sank his teeth into the soft flesh above her shoulder, drawing another guttural moan from her throat; his hands sought out the mounds of her breasts and he weighed them in his palms before kneading them, pressing them against one another, and pulling at their peaks with his thumbs and forefingers. She was practically purring against him now, and try as he might, he simply couldn't keep up the illusion that she was Cybille any longer. She was far more _sexual_ than Cybille had been-and even though he had enjoyed himself with his human wife and had enjoyed pleasuring her above all else, Menefer had a body that begged to be used and he could use her in ways that he never would have dreamed of with Cybille.

Her body was slick with a sheen of sweat-from their activities or simply from the heat rolling off his own in waves, he wasn't completely sure-but he had to dig his fingers into her flesh for purchase as he thrust into her. Her head was thrown back over his shoulder and her own fingers gripped the seam of his trousers on either leg, her legs bent awkwardly beneath the fold of his own as they wrapped backwards around his hips and he supported them both on bent knees. He was far from finished with her but he had the sudden urge to look at her, and with little thought on his own part, he seized her upper arms and flung her to the side. She landed in a heap against the down filled pillows, her face a mask of fear and anticipation. She didn't bother to speak to him, because she didn't expect an answer anyway. She only gazed up at his unbelievably beautiful face and waited as he crawled over her.

Sebastian grappled her thighs and yanked her down toward him as he settled between her legs; Menefer's arms going up to grasp the edge of the headboard as he came in contact with the sopping flesh where he'd been buried inside her body. He teased her for a moment, holding himself in his hand and running the head of his shaft around the sensitive folds of flesh at her core, watching alternately the display of emotions flash across her face and the muscles of her abdomen twitch when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. He enjoyed tormenting her, as much as he had enjoyed pleasuring his human wife. And perhaps, it was one and the same, given their distinctive differences in personality. Menefer enjoyed being tormented. And Sebastian was, if nothing else, one hell of a sadist.

He lifted her hips in the air to meet him and satisfied that she could hold herself up, he parted her folds with one hand and pressed the head of his shaft inside her with the other, using her juices as lubrication to masturbate into her. Her eyes rolled back into her head with the new sensation and her legs quivered with the effort of holding her hips up against his. Sebastian smiled at his innovation and continued to pump himself inside her, happy with his dirty little trick. It wasn't often that he had ever had to rely on this particular exercise for his own sake, but he had had masters and mistresses alike in the past that insisted seeing him do this was insanely arousing. Menefer seemed to be enjoying it without a doubt. Satisfied as he was that she enjoyed it, he wasn't sure if she could continue to hold herself aloft much longer, judging from the trembling muscles of her thighs, so he drove into her full force and caught her hips on the way down, holding her against him as he pumped in and out of her wet warmth.

It seemed she was keeping her promise not to cry out, but he worried at the thin line of blood coming from the corner of her mouth as she bit into her lip trying not to scream. She was in such intense throes of pleasure she didn't even realize she'd bitten her lip through, he thought, amused, and leaning in, he sank his tongue in her mouth, lapping at the blood inside her lips and scraping against her teeth. Her eyes shot open in that moment when he kissed her and she tasted the sweet coppery tang of her own blood and wondered at the pain in her lip and groaned because it was nothing compared to the sensation of him pounding into her and the feel of him bottoming out inside her. And at that moment when she thought she'd surely die because the world around her reeled and light exploded behind her eyes and she felt him spill his seed at the mouth of her womb, she thought she heard him mutter against her lips, "Menefer, I'm sorry."

It was midday when she cracked her eyes open and stretched, delighting in the ache of her limbs and the subtle throbbing between her legs. It had been an eventful morning to say the least, and Menefer rolled about the bed like a cat, repositioning herself to stretch over the other side, knowing beyond a doubt Sebastian would be up and about among whatever duties he held steadfast in accomplishing. She very nearly screamed when she came face to face with the demon, lying there on the other side of the bed, contented smile spread languidly across his face, rust colored eyes brazenly drinking in her naked form.

"What are you doing here?" she squeaked, not really sure why she was frightened of him, but knowing nonetheless his presence here was abnormal.

He chuckled and lifted himself onto his elbow and she noticed finally that he was perfectly nude, the hard planes of his stomach flexing as he bent, the thick corded muscles of his biceps straining under alabaster skin. Oh, gods, he was perfect beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of. But he hadn't answered her question...

"It is such a wonder to wake and find me in my own bed?" he drawled, reaching out with his free hand and pushing the wild curls in her face back behind her ear.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, reflexively reaching for the sheet between them and pulling it up to her chin. "Never once, in all our times together, have I ever awoken to your face!"

He laughed again and collapsed against the pillows behind him, throwing his forearm over his face. "I suppose you are right. I apologize. I'll not let it happen again," he teased, and she took those few moments to truly study his splendid physique.

Sebastian and Marcus had been the same person. And while the Marcus she had fallen in love with had started out somewhat different in build than the demon lying beside her now, the Sebastian she was with was very nearly identical to the Marcus she had given herself to when she was sixteen. His hair was cut differently, and his skin was whiter-almost translucent. She could see the fine networks of blue veins beneath his skin in some places. But the rippled cut of his abdomen, the hard mounds of his pectorals, the ridiculously thick muscles of his arms that were always hidden beneath his dark sleeves-down to the sharp jut of his hipbones and the powerful corded muscles of his legs-those were the same as she had always remembered. Marcus Brutus, the Roman Legionnaire, had been even thicker and more powerfully built. But when his warring ended and he became Marcus, the embodiment of Death at her temple, he'd been thinner-a bit darker-skinned from the Egyptian sun but still drastically paler than the people around him.

This picture of nude perfection beside her was the body of the man she remembered taking her maidenhead when he'd decided she would need to learn to please a man before the pharaoh would take her as a wife. It was the body of the man she'd fallen so very hard for in her idealistic youth. And gods, what a body it was.

"Stay," she mumbled finally, still unsure about his presence, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. She rolled onto her own back and mirrored his pose, draping her arm over her face and suddenly fighting back tears. There was a sudden tickling sensation against her ribs and she gasped and wriggled away from the offending digits as Sebastian feathered his fingertips across her ribs toward her breast. "What are you doing?" she cried, flinging her arm away and turning liquid brown eyes on the demon.

"Why are you crying?" was his retort, and he once again propped himself on his elbow and stared down at the priestess.

"What does it matter? I am lost. I am in a time and place that I do not understand and the only being here that knows me for what I truly am has ignored me but to sate his lust." She rolled onto her side, turning her back on him and trying her damnedest not to burst into hysterics.

"I seem to remember apologizing for that earlier," he replied, reaching out again and dragging the tips of his black fingernails down the length of her spine.

"Is that what you were apologizing for?" she quipped, not able to hide a sniffle. "I thought it was for trying to pretend I was someone else."

"Explain yourself," Sebastian demanded abruptly, rising up to sit against the headboard and leaning over her form menacingly.

"I've always been able to read you, Marcus. You're not the sort to take me from behind unless something else is on your mind. And though you've never been the gentlest of lovers, you've certainly never tried to rape me." She pulled that excuse out of thin air when she realized her quip may have put Ciel in some kind of danger. The tale he'd woven of Sebastian's past in this house was probably not the kind the demon would want considered common knowledge among his makeshift family.

She heard the demon grunt behind her and assumed he'd taken her statement as truth. She felt the bed shift as he moved, then to her disbelief, felt his heavy arm circle around her waist and his nose press into the flesh beneath her ear.

"I promised I would not leave you again, Menefer. And I won't. There are ...ghosts in this house that I have to deal with. And I am sorry that I've been distant since we've arrived. But you must realize that if I didn't care for you in my own twisted way, I would never have helped you escape England and brought you here with me."

Menefer felt the tears pooling in her eyes again and fought back another sob. She could only nod as he pressed a kiss to her neck and crawled out of bed. He knew how deeply she loved him. How could he not? He had uncanny powers of perception and it wasn't as if she'd hidden her feelings from him in the past. He had made it clear to her when she was a child that he couldn't-or wouldn't-love her. He had never tried to discourage her own feelings toward him, even when she'd thrown herself at him the first few times, he'd only told her he wouldn't bed her unless he was ready. She was always warm and willing for him when he decided he was ready. So while he pushed her away physically and emotionally when her own desires surfaced, it seemed to her that he would come crawling back when his lust was roused and she decided those millenia ago that as long as hers was the only body he used for such things, she could live with being only a body to him.

She rolled back over to watch him dress. She could drink in the sight of his naked form regardless that she was angry with him. Muscles flexed beneath taut porcelain skin as he sauntered to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and pulled the doors open revealing rows of perfectly pressed trousers and jackets and shirts. She bit back a grin as she watched his tight bottom twitch when he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. The broad expanse of his perfect back was corded with muscle as well, and Menefer watched with fascination as those muscles rippled with the mundane task of pulling clothes out of the wardrobe.

"It's disgusting really, how perfect you are," she muttered, wiping away the evidence of her tears from her face and sitting up against the pillows in the bed. The demon turned to regard her with a dazzling smile plastered on his face. She laughed despite herself.

"I suppose that makes you rather disgusting yourself, my dear," he replied and she stared at him in muted shock. He'd said many things to her before but he'd never called her perfect-even if it had been in a roundabout insult. She remembered suddenly a moment ago when he'd told her he _did_, in fact, care for her 'in his own twisted way'. The stupid smile fell from his face as he pulled a pair of pants from a hanger and yanked them up his legs.

Menefer continued to watch in silence as he buttoned the fly of his pants and snatched a shirt from yet another hanger and pulled his arms through the sleeves. She swung her legs out of the bed and rose, stretching once more for good measure, suddenly very sure of herself and the effect her 'disgusting' body had on the demon's libido. His eyes were glued to her lithe form and his concentration hitched midway through the buttoning of his shirt. He was paused in the middle, his chest bare through the gaping neck and she drifted over to him, stalking like a cat, and grabbed his hands where they'd paused mid-button.

Pulling them down to his sides, she leaned up on the balls of her feet and taking the shirt in her hands, started un-doing the buttons he'd succeeded in pushing through their tiny holes, pressing her body against his and breathing hotly at the base of his throat. "Menefer..." he groaned and she was oh-so-pleased with herself at that moment. He'd never reacted to her attempts at seduction and it was looking like this attempt might actually end in her favor.

"Yes, my lord?" she purred, pulling the shirt back open and sliding her hands up his tight abdomen, coming to rest on his pectorals for a moment before slipping over his shoulders and pushing the shirt back off his frame.

"When one plays with fire, one tends to get burned," he warned, angling his face down at her finally, his eyes alight with hell's own flames. She would be stupid to admit that he didn't frighten her. Especially when he was looking at her like she was his dinner.

"You burned me a thousand years ago," she whispered, pressing her lips against his with shaky breaths. She couldn't honestly say she expected him to respond but when his arms snaked around her and his hands grabbed her bottom and lifted her up against him to wrap her legs around his waist, and when his tongue found its way into her mouth she gasped against him, and found herself forcing a new kind of elated sob back down her throat as he kissed her. Maybe he didn't love her. Maybe he truly _couldn't_ love her. But she could love him enough for the both of them, she thought.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Thank you guys for all your faves/follows! And I have been seeing an increase in reviews ;p which makes me very happy!_**

**_Disclaim, Schmisclaim. I don't own anything. Except Mennie and my other OCs._**

**_Thanks to all of my readers for keeping up with me. I 3 Y'all!_**

The second time Menefer opened her eyes, it was late evening. Sebastian was not in the bed with her. Elizabeth was calling her name from somewhere in the house and she groaned in agonizing pleasure, relishing the feel of her aches and the throbbing in her legs and insides from her demon's thorough ministrations. She knew she had a ridiculous smile on her face and she knew her skin was flush with color and she knew above all else, she needed a bath.

"I'll be out soon!" she called to the door and she heard Lizzie's response a moment later.

"Alright, Dearest. I've made us dinner."

_Oh, we were supposed to be shopping and eating and entertaining ourselves today_, she remembered rolling to her feet from her prone position in the much-used bed. She threw on a dressing robe she spied hanging from a hook on the door of the wardrobe. It was plush and velvety and smelled of Sebastian. She lifted the collar and inhaled deeply. He must have worn it at some point in the day. She was giddy and light-hearted and she never felt her feet hit the wooden planks of the floor as she made her way into the bathroom and turned on the hot water tap of the huge garden-style tub.

She made quick work of her bath and dressed in a pair of slacks and a simple button-down cotton shirt and vest. She didn't bother putting shoes on her feet and pulled her toweled-dry hair back in a messy bun as she made her way to the dining room in the back of the house.

The table had been cleared of its cacophony of candles, the dripped wax peeled away and the center adorned with a more traditional candelabra; silver with blood red candles set atop its masts. Lizzie had indeed prepared dinner, and Menefer's mouth was watering with the sight of it splayed out across the buffet at the far left of the room. Ciel was seated at the table, looking rested and much more aware than he had the previous night. Elizabeth was bustling about, going between the buffet and the table, pouring tea for Menefer and herself.

"I'm so sorry, I slept through the whole day," Menefer began, but Lizzie held her hand up with a smile and stopped her.

"No, I slept the whole day, as well. Actually, I awoke with quite the hangover, face plastered in drool at this very table, and barely managed to drag myself back to my room." Elizabeth laughed as she seated herself next to the demon boy and finally took a sip of her tea. "I'm positive we can reschedule our plans for tomorrow."

"Of course," Menefer responded, taking a seat across from Ciel and taking the proffered teacup. "And how was your day, Ciel?" Menefer inquired, crossing her legs under the table and playfully bumping her foot against his knee.

"I seem to have slept through most of the day, as well," he admitted, his stern tone indifferent to her teasing. "Sebastian woke me to tell me he was going back to the bank this evening but he'd return by nine. He seemed rather apologetic for having been out all night last night. It was odd."

Menefer hid her smile behind her teacup and nodded at the boy demon.

_The old priest approached her soon after her sixteenth birthday. "Menefer, your Marcus is here to see you."_

_The beautiful young woman beamed, leaping from her position on the floor in the room where the scribes took their lessons, uncaring if she upset any of her peers' focus in the least. She was well ahead of them as it was, only attending the lessons to kill time, since she couldn't practice the warriors' arts at all times of the day._

_It had been over a year since Marcus had come to the temple to see her. The last few years he'd been on a once-a-year basis, checking in on her achievements as she'd studied and progressed, pushing herself to his ideal goal for her. She truly had one of the best minds in Egypt, the priest assured; a knack for strategy and as adept a fighter as he'd ever seen. It didn't hurt that she was lovely, and if Marcus had his way, she'd at least be the pharaoh's next concubine, en route to be the Queen. That was what the Death God wanted, she knew. For in the position of Queen, he as her personal adviser, could live in luxury, influencing everything around him. And really, she owed him her life, so it was the least she could do for him._

_She raced toward the temple entrance where she knew he'd be waiting for her but as she neared it, she realized she needed to put to rest his fears that she may still be a petulant impatient child and she put on the brakes, smoothed out her garments, and tugged at the ends of the braids on her wig, making certain it was straight. The little gold beads clicked together sweetly as she walked, carefully placing one foot directly in front of the other on the sun-baked bricks of the temple._

_Her makeup was simple, just exaggerated lines of Kohl around her eyes; her translucent white skirt and top garnished with thousands of beads of turquoise and agate, held fast against her toned body by wide gold belts at her neck and low on her hips. Her sand-storm colored skin was flush with excitement, her midriff bare and she felt her stomach twitching in anticipation as she spotted the back of his head near the lotus pool where she used to spar with the children her age._

_He was exactly the way she remembered; not that she ever really expected a god to change unless it suited him, and he exuded an air of arrogance even when he was alone. He wore the traditional robes and shifts of Egypt now, rather than the red belted tunic of Rome; and she adored the way he looked now, even if he was slightly more frightening in the more revealing garb than he had been in Roman Legionnaire armor. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and forced her crush on him to the back of her mind. She approached the first step down from the temple and waited for the priest to catch up to her. She had initially left him in quite the cloud of dust. Menefer stood there, hoping against hope that she would meet Marcus' approval now that the appointed time had come._

_And as Marcus turned to spy the subject of his lofty plans standing so regally on the steps of the temple, he was stunned into silence. The priest ambled up behind her, a proud and fatherly smile plastered on his rounded face and so Marcus knew this was _his_ Menefer, even if the voluptuous goddess before him bore little to no resemblance to the ungainly, tomboyish creature she had been. There stood above him a woman, at least in appearance, that deserved to be in the palace. He still held his doubts about her ability to conduct herself as a woman of experience and grace-but even that began to fade as she carefully and alluringly made her way down the wide temple steps to greet him._

_She moved with a felicitous grace that told of hours and days and months of practice, each step rocking her hips delightfully to and fro, her abdomen taut and gently muscled, her breasts bouncing with every movement in the most enchanting manner. Perhaps, he mused, it was so breathtaking because she hadn't had any of these attributes upon his previous visit. But, he supposed, girls could grow into women in a startlingly short period of time. He found himself smiling back at her as she neared, and he hadn't intended to be that gracious or open with her, but her own smile was so bright, it didn't seem he could stop himself._

_Menefer had been thinking about her first words to him as she descended the steps. It would have to be simple, yet profound. He would have to immediately know she was ready for his plan to commence. She had to prove herself in one sentence. Then he turned and locked eyes with her and she couldn't help but blush all over, seeing his unabashed appraisal of her person as she walked toward him. She wondered suddenly if she had chosen the wrong thing to wear, if her makeup was not as elaborate as he would have preferred; did he even recognize her? She was smiling at him, hoping he knew who she was, because she was well aware that the last time he'd been here, she hadn't looked one iota the same woman as she did at that moment. And to her surprise-and utter relief-he smiled back. And she knew he _knew_._

_"Is this my Marcus that I have missed so terribly?" she asked, drawing near, and reaching out with deft fingers to grasp at the fine white linen of his tunic. She was playing her seductive card right off the bat, and it had been completely natural as it fell from her lips. "This Menefer is not quite the same as you remember, no?"_

_He reached up and grasped her hand in his, turning her palm up and planting his lips on it. "This Marcus is beside himself with your... changes."_

_Menefer smiled, pleased with herself. The priest smiled, pleased with himself. Marcus smiled, pleased with everything in that moment. Suddenly his doubt about bedding the girl-to teach her the arts of love-making-didn't seem in the least bit trivial and time-consuming. In fact, he intended to start her "training" that very night._

It was well-past nine o'clock-the appointed time for Sebastian to be home-but Lizzie and Menefer curled in Elizabeth's bed in the spacious servant's quarters next to Paula's, Lizzie enraptured by tales of Menefer's past. Their dinner had ended on a quiet note, with Ciel retiring to the study to read, so Lizzie fished a bottle of wine out of the pantry and grabbed Mennie's hand, stoutly tugging her out the French doors, across the overgrown courtyard, and up the stairs to her room.

"Did he?" Elizabeth asked, unashamed of the weight of her question, and to her credit, Menefer didn't blush. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure she remembered how to blush.

Menefer only nodded and took a sip of the wine she held in her hand. Lizzie threw herself back onto the bed dispassionately. "I can only imagine..." she mumbled, cutting her brilliant green eyes over to Menefer. "What was it like? I am so sorry to ask you all these horrible questions!" she exclaimed, "But I have no idea... I mean, it's not as if I'm a virgin. But I was never given a choice about my maidenhead and I've certainly never lain with a man I gave a damn about!"

Menefer laughed and, stretching like a cat, eased herself down into the plush comfort of the bed, careful not to spill her wine. "I don't know what you expect me to say..." she started dumbly. "It's the same to loose your maidenhead whether you love the man or not. The pain is the same. And though there were stories that the women told, that if you gave it time, or were very in love, the pain would ease and you would reach completion... Lies. All of them."

Elizabeth let out a guffaw of laughter. "I know! We have romance stories like that, too! The heroine will gaze into her lover's eyes and he'll slow down, and the pain will go away, and fireworks behind eyelids, and all such nonsense!"

"Actually, the fireworks thing is true," Menefer whispered and Lizzie looked at her in surprise. "If it is good enough... You will see flashes of light. Sometimes, even if your eyes are open."

"No..." Lizzie breathed and Menefer only nodded knowingly, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her generous lips.

"It was painful for me, as well, when Marcus bedded me the first time. Actually, it was painful the first few times. He ...well. He was none too gentle. My very first time, perhaps. He was kinder then. He didn't want to cause me unnecessary discomfort. But after that, he said it was for the best if I was used to the punishment given to a woman by a man."

"That's what he called it?!" Elizabeth gasped.

"He was a harsh man. He was very grounded-logical. He knew if I were being bedded by the Pharaoh, I would need to be desensitized."

"That's just plain awful, Mennie. And you fell in love with him, anyway?"

"I am not as logical as he, it seems."

"I don't think women are, in general, Dearest. I think we hear so many romantic stories as we grow older that when the time comes, we're lost in a haze of fantasy and the world just grows crueler around us."

Menefer nodded knowingly. "I think so. But, surely you didn't bring me here to only hear my ancient tales."

"No..." Lizzie admitted, sitting up and gazing down at the beautiful Egyptian. "I... am at a crossroads, it seems. Ciel told me something ...quite profound last night. That he may not be as 'trapped' in his boyish body as we had thought."

"That is good, no?"

"It is good. But we have no inkling of how to ...un-trap him, it seems. He seems to think Sebastian won't be forthcoming with information on how to ...change him. Though he knows that Sebastian himself is quite capable of changing his own form when needed."

"I suppose that is true, though your Sebastian is virtually identical to my Marcus. The color of his skin is whiter, his hair is longer. But these are very ...subtle... changes. Ciel growing into a man in moments is harder to grasp."

"Indeed. Though, he seems to think it possible."

Menefer fingered the carnelian obelisk at her throat absently, wondering if some ancient magic like hers could pose the answer to her friends' predicament. "My necklace makes me what I am, by feeding on the residual energy of Marcus' demonic powers. The fact that he made it a gift to me during our ...relationship, and had it blessed and enchanted by the priests in the Temple of Anubis probably makes its effects that much more potent. I am wondering... can such an artifact help your Ciel?"

"But your necklace keeps you eternally young and that is the crux of the matter..." Lizzie muttered. "What could possibly age him? Or would that even be necessary if he could tap into his own powers..."

"That's it!" Menefer shot upright like her bottom was on fire. "We only need to help him find his own way to change. If he is as much a demon as Sebastian, as you hypothesized, then surely he holds the key to his own abilities. He only doesn't know it yet!"


	15. Chapter 15

**_I know I usually post earlier in the day, but today has been a beast. Between bad tires and stolen cell phones, I'm waiting for something else terrible to happen... Hopefully my day is done and tomorrow will be better (even if I have to work). Thank you guys for reading/reviewing and thank you for all the follows/faves!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler or any of its characters, plot references, etc._**

**_This chapter has some lemony goodness, so beware. If citrus offends, do not read. Do not continue if you are under 18. (yeah, I know, right?)_**

**_Enjoy :)_**

Menefer had retired to bed shortly after their epiphany and Elizabeth made her way to the front of the main house. She heard the tell-tale sounds of a late-night romp coming from Sebastian's room and the knowledge that Menefer was in that room enjoying herself as only Elizabeth could dream of, made the blonde squirm in more ways than one. Trying her best to shut out the sounds, she shuffled faster toward the door to the study where Ciel was probably still curled in the desk chair, reading.

The light coming through the cracked door was dim and the door creaked ever-so-lightly as she pushed it open, revealing a lone lamp lit on the huge desk and Ciel in the chair as she'd suspected, one leg crossed over the other, nose planted firmly in an ancient-looking tome, bound in black leather.

He paid her no mind as she ambled toward him, only arching one brow to acknowledge her presence, but never lifting his face to hers. She was used to such, she supposed, and at least he _had_ acknowledged her. She crossed the room to the desk and perched on the corner of it, leaning close to see what so intensely held Ciel's interest. To her dismay, she couldn't read Latin and it seemed that was what the entirety of the book was written in; she watched his lips move silently as he read for a moment more, then he pulled the red satin string attached to the spine of the book from deeper in the pages and marked his current page.

"What is it, Lizzie?" he asked, his voice rough from unuse, as he leaned forward and dropped the thick book on the desktop.

Elizabeth leaned back on the heels of her hands and crossed her legs in front of her, her slacks suddenly straining against the flesh of her shapely thighs with the movement. She did not miss Ciel's blatant regard for her legs, either.

He swiveled the chair to face her and his uncovered eye was focused solely on those legs. _Funny. Never thought of myself as a leg-man..._

"Mennie and I have had a revelation."

"Indeed. And what is that?" he asked, finally dragging his eye up the rest of her body and locking with her brilliant green orbs.

"We've decided that you are every bit the demon that Sebastian is. And that as such, you should have every ability-or at least, _eventually_ have his abilities-at your perusal. And seeing as though Sebastian is a demon, and you are _also_ a demon, you should have a demonic form as he does. This particular form may be more conducive to more... _adult_... activities."

"You've gone and discussed our ...predicament... with Menefer?"

"She's a goddamn _mummy_, Ciel. It doesn't matter. You can get upset if you want, but really, how absurd is it that I discuss my sexual problems with another woman versus the fact that that woman is a mummy who is currently locked in a bedroom with a demon making all sorts of naughty sounds that make my blood boil when I can't even be with you!"

Ciel's blank stare was broken only by the fact that his mouth hung agape. "Lizzie-"

"Don't you 'Lizzie' _me_, my lord," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her button nose in the air.

Ciel had to fight back a grin. Suddenly she was a little girl again, angry at him over something he had no control over, nose in the air, ready to stomp her little foot and cry. He stood from the chair and bracing his palms on either side of her hips, leaned in and pressed his lips to her exposed throat.

She gasped at the cool dry lips against her skin and angled her head down to meet that violently blue eye that gazed up at her. He looked all the predator, and she shivered despite herself. His fingers were clasping her chin and he was tilting her face down further and she still could not break his gaze. When his lips finally closed over her own, her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and she reveled in the feel of his cool tongue caressing her own, tangling in her mouth and running over her teeth as he fought to explore every crevasse inside of her.

After a moment of stunned approval, she grasped his shoulders and pulled away, gasping for breath. "Ciel. You aren't helping our... predicament, as you called it. You're only making this indescribably hard for both of us."

He sighed as he pulled back, bowing his head and scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. Then he was silent and impossibly still for several moments and Lizzie felt the temperature in the room shoot up considerably. Heat was rolling off Ciel in waves and she actually leaned further back on the desk to distance herself from the source.

"Ciel, Dearest... what are you doing?" she asked timidly, finally, doubt and worry coursing to the surface.

"I... don't know..." he ground out, still covering his face with his hands, but unable to stop the fury radiating off his body. "Get out of here, Lizzie," he growled and though every fiber of her being told her to stay and help him through whatever was happening, she flung herself off the desk and ran.

When the sun rose the next morning, Ciel was still sitting in the study. The chair was a shambles in the center of the room where he'd punched and kicked and thrown it over the desk in a fit of rage. He was sitting in the floor, back against the desk, consumed by his own incompetence at being a demon. The sun was streaking through the thick draperies over the French doors and he rolled his face away from the offending rays. He had ripped off his eye patch at some point in his rage and when Sebastian found him as he was leaving for the bank he _tsked_ and leaned down, snatching the cord on the patch and tossing it in Ciel's lap as he passed.

"Whatever happened in here, my lord?" the older demon asked, somewhat condescendingly, as he assessed the damage and the body of the younger demon slumped in the floor.

"How do I change, Sebastian? Surely you know."

"I'm afraid I do not." Sebastian turned from the broken heap of chair and regarded the boy with something between concern and amusement in his rust-colored gaze. "Perhaps-"

"Perhaps, my ass, Demon. _You_ change. You've never let me see your true form, but I know you can do it!" Ciel jumped to his feet and quickly tied the patch around his head. His visible eye was flaring. "I understand why, Sebastian! I'm not asking you to change! I need to know if I can do it too..."

The boy had trailed off, and Sebastian thought about his request. "As I was going to say, perhaps your rage has something to do with it all."

Ciel stared at him blankly.

Sebastian sighed. "What I do as a demon is fundamentally different than what you do as a demon. I was created for guardianship and wars. My demonic form _is_ my original form. When I fell, I didn't change from what you see into a demon. I changed from an angel-albeit a dark one-into what you see, if you will." Another sigh, and Sebastian reached down to the broken chair. Ciel blinked and the chair was whole.

"What was that? How do you do it?!"

"I cannot explain it to you, my lord. For that, I am truly sorry. But what I am, what I can do, was decided for me before I found myself here. I became a demon from an angel. You became a demon from a powerless human. There is probably _nothing_ you can do about that."

"You're saying you cannot teach me to be a demon because what a demon _is_ is what he always _was_."

"Yes, my young lord." Sebastian retrieved his briefcase and keys from the short table between the two French doors in the front of the room. Ciel threw his head back and let out a wail of frustration. When he looked back down, Sebastian was gone.

His wail brought a distraught Menefer racing from her room into the study to check on him. She barreled through the door in one of Sebastian's shirts not quite buttoned and a pair of wrinkled slacks. "Ciel! Are you-"

"No, Menefer. I am _not_ alright." He let his gaze roam over the curvy Egyptian for a moment, then turned to the whole-again chair and pushed it back behind the desk where it belonged. "Sebastian has come to the conclusion that our demonic powers are 'fundamentally' different."

She straightened from her protective crouch and a frown replaced the worried look on her features. There was a startled yelp and crash in the dining room suddenly, then Elizabeth appeared in the study doorway behind Menefer, wrapped in a dressing robe and not much else. "Everything... is alright?" she asked, confusion marring her pretty face as she clenched the front of her robe shut. "I heard a wail. I _felt_ it. It reverberated in my bones. I knew something was wrong..."

"Lizzie, it's alright. Menefer, do you mind?" Ciel sat in the chair and rolled his head to and fro, cracking the stiff bones with a resounding crunch. Menefer nodded and turned, patting Elizabeth on the shoulder as she left.

"I am sorry about last night-" Ciel started, but Lizzie held her hand up and cut him off.

"No, Dearest. I am sorry. I should have stayed. Regardless if you told me no, I should have stayed. I was frightened." She walked over to the desk and leaned her hip into the side of huge mahogany affair. "I came as fast as I could when I felt you scream. I thought something terrible had happened."

"Sebastian and I had a ...discussion. When he left for work a moment ago. He explained some things to me that I feel are ...imperative that you know."

Elizabeth clutched the seams of her gown together so tightly her knuckles went white. Taking a deep breath, she decided that something awful had happened and she scooted her bottom up on the edge of the desk to sit. "What is it?"

"He made a valid point, I want you to know that. He said that we were ...fundamentally different, he and I. While yes, we are both technically demons, we were born of two completely different mediums. He from an angel that already possessed supernatural powers-and I from a human that was essentially powerless. His argument has led me to believe that there is nothing I can do..." he trailed off and only then did he realize he had gotten out of his chair. He stopped pacing and turned to regard the blonde beauty perched on his desk. "There is no growing up for me, Lizzie."

Her eyes were already brimmed with tears and her hands shook where she clasped the front of her robe together. "But... surely you have _some_ power..." she whispered.

"The only things I am certain I can do is consume human souls and break desk chairs."

A startled little chuckle escaped her lips and Ciel went to her, using his sleeve to gently wipe away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers. It startled him somewhat that they were finally eye-to-eye; he decided to pretend it wasn't because she was sitting down. "Lizzie," he whispered, and her green eyes opened and captured his blue. His hands were on her own, where she held her gown together and it startled her how little pressure he had to apply to make her let go of the fabric so that it fell open and he parted it with his own hands and gazed down at her nakedness. She swallowed thickly at his potent stare and once again, she was torn between her want for him and her moral obligation at his appearance.

His fingertips grasped the lacy edge and tugged the gown to either side of her body, exposing her taut stomach and pert breasts and the little triangle of blonde curls at the apex of her thighs. His breath left his lungs in a shuddering staccato. He reached out and with the back of his fingers, dragged his knuckles down the side of her breast; watched the muscles in her stomach jump from the contact, and gently, like a feather, continued the trail down her ribs and to the curve of her hip.

Elizabeth braced herself on the heels of her palms, leaning back slightly-and against her better judgment-so Ciel could drink his fill of her. She had to bite back a gasp as he curled his thumbs into the niche of her hipbones and jerked her forward so that she barely had her bottom on the desk and she realized suddenly that her legs were spread and he stood between them and she couldn't remember how she had gotten into this position. Her curls were flush against the fly of his trousers and she stared down dumbly at the bulge there as he pressed into her. Her head fell back at the sensation and distantly she registered that his hands were on her breasts.

Ciel thought he would surely burst. The wet heat from her core against the aching throb of his shaft was making it distinctly difficult to breathe. His hands covered her ample breasts and he reveled in the feel of her nipples standing erect beneath his palms as he massaged them. She was porcelain and pink-like a doll-and he ground his clothed member against her pink folds, wondering if he could fill her if she let him try. Her moan brought him back to reality and he froze, suddenly appalled at himself. He pulled away with a disappointed groan and yanked the robe around her, covering her body and spinning on his heel to face the bookshelves in the back of the room.

When Lizzie lost contact, it was as if a veil had been lifted and she blushed crimson from her toes to her hair. Grabbing the seams of her gown and sliding from the edge of the desk, she started for the door, hoping she could make it back to her room without being seen. Ciel's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It will happen, Elizabeth. But not like this. I swear to you, I'll find a way."

"I know," she whispered over her shoulder and fled.

He turned back to the desk and slumped in the chair, staring down at the damp stain on his crotch and aching to take himself in his hand to get rid of that desperate pressure in his groin. He fought against it though, and buried his frustration by opening the leather bound book he'd been reading the night before.

It was a book found in Sebastian's vast library and he hoped it would give him insight-an idea, at best-of how to handle his issue. He pulled the red satin bookmark out and flipped the pages open to where he'd left off the night before.

He was still there when the sun sank behind the horizon and Sebastian came through the front door in the study. He lifted his eyes to regard his older counterpart and nodded a greeting, then plunged his nose back into the tome. Sebastian dropped his briefcase and keys on the table by the door and reached up to loosen the tie about his neck. The scent of sex was still heavy in the room to Sebastian's demon nose and he wondered if Ciel had finally pinned Elizabeth down and taken out his frustrations on her body. He sincerely doubted it. More like, she had given in only so far and one of them had stopped it, both full of childish propriety. He grinned.

"My lord," he greeted, walking into the room and up to the desk. "I have other books, scrolls, that may prove more useful to your research. With your permission, I will go back to the Void and retrieve them. I am not certain that what any of them hold will be of assistance, but there are ancient texts that deal with shape-shifting and astral projection among them."

"What is astral projection?" the earl asked, setting aside his book and leaning forward.

"It is the idea that one's spirit can leave the body, fully aware, while said body is in a trance-like state. Some believe you can even possess another person that way."

"Possess another body..." Ciel mumbled, wondering if he'd stumbled onto something useful, finally. "Get them."

"Very well, my lord. I will return post haste."

Ciel had nodded off before Sebastian returned, his head filled with dreams of Lizzie. She was naked in some of them, pinned beneath him in most; crying out in pleasure in all. Sebastian cleared his throat as he entered, startling the boy demon awake. He frowned at the pressure in his groin again. Wriggling in the chair to accommodate the sensation and hoping it would dissipate quickly, he gave Sebastian his full attention.

"I would apologize for taking so long, but it seems you were unaware of the lapse in time," the older demon remarked, dropping an armful of leather bound books and ancient scrolls of parchment on the desk. "I went through everything while I was there and chose the few that I felt would hold the most insight for you." He reached out and took a scroll in his hand, pulling the cord that held it closed. It sprang out and Sebastian laid it flat on the desk, using four of the books there to hold down its corners. "This scroll is in Arabic, and as I doubt that is one of the languages your tutors bequeathed you, I'll explain. The rest are in Latin and one-" he picked up a thick book of metal plates wired together with what looked like tarnished silver- "is in Egyptian hieroglyphs. But something tells me that won't be a problem for you," he smirked.

Ciel only shot him an agitated glare and focused on the yellowed scroll in front of him. "What does it say?"


	16. Chapter 16

**_Yay! Another chapter! I almost forgot to upload, so sorry that it's a little later than normal_**

**_Enjoy and Review!_**

**_Thank you for all the follows/favorites (not only on Libera Me II, but also its predecessor and my other work)_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I promise._**

It was midday when Elizabeth and Menefer decided to finally take their excursion into the Quarter. Neither one knowing exactly what "Mardi Gras" entailed, they were not prepared for the crush of bodies on the sidewalks or the noise that accompanied it all. Brass bands blared out from every street corner and music fell from the doors of the shops and pubs that lined the narrow roads.

It was no secret to the women that Prohibition was in effect; but it didn't seem to matter to the people of New Orleans. The bars were open and liquor was flowing freely. The police were as often spotted with a drink in hand as a parade-goer. Elizabeth was having a hard time trying to comprehend this, as well as explain it to Menefer, who had no concept of national-law and the enforcement of such. The only thing that eclipsed the shock of openly denying the Prohibition law, were the countless barely-dressed women (and men) that made up a large percentage of the crowds. There were even blatantly topless women roaming about, allowing strangers to look or touch them in exchange for trinkets gotten from the parade floats.

Lizzie and Menefer wandered around in a fog, both trying unsuccessfully to slither through the sea of writhing people without touching anyone or specific _parts_ of anyone. Their excursion, to say the least, would have to wait until this Carnival was over.

Ciel was safely ensconced in the study of the townhouse on Dumaine, the cries and shouts of revelers and blaring horns and jazz a muffled afterthought at his distance. It did serve to annoy him a bit; and he wondered if the women were alright out there on their own. He'd elected to stay behind and study the texts Sebastian had left him, but the worry for Lizzie and Menefer nagged at the back of his mind till he couldn't concentrate on the tiny images before him that made up the ancient Egyptian language. He convinced himself as he tugged on his jacket, that he was retrieving the ladies because Menefer could read Egyptian far more quickly than he could decipher it; and he only briefly considered the fact that he may not be able to find them at all.

"I'm a demon, for chrissake," he muttered to himself as he locked the door behind him. "The least I can do is find a blonde Brit and a damnable Mummy."

An hour into his "rescue mission" he wasn't so sure anymore. He passed the street sign for Rue Dauphine and thankfully, the sidewalk here was not so crowded as the others. He shuffled along, tapping his cane as he went, keeping a keen eye on the eccentrics around him-and gods, he had never seen so many breasts in his life, facsimiles or otherwise. His attention was momentarily diverted as he passed the shop front of a candy store. Oh, how he wished he could taste the heavenly sweets he so craved in his childhood! He tore his gaze away though, and continued, slipping through the throng of people toward St. Anne.

He didn't have any particular idea what he was doing, but he thought if he concentrated hard enough, perhaps he could tell where the girls were. He frequently squeezed his uncovered eye closed, hoping that the faint glimmer that steered his course was not his imagination. He liked to think that he shared some kind of bond with Lizzie, at least, so she was the one he concentrated on. St. Anne took him to Royal and he caught a glimpse of blonde curls where the crowd thinned and he turned blindly onto St. Peter and tried to catch up without actually running. The head disappeared into a tiny shop on the right and as it did so, he was convinced he was looking at Elizabeth's profile.

He rushed to the store front and nearly tripped over the exceedingly steep threshold. Catching himself, he peered around the shop, wondering at the bizarre and surreal wares packed inside. Some things were extravagantly grotesque while others were incongruous and strangely beautiful. There was an old woman dressed entirely in white behind the counter. She sat on a stool that barely allowed her to see over the counter proper. _And what could she see?_ Ciel wondered, but the unnatural collection of whatnots and curiosities that flooded the entire little store.

She grinned at him, toothless and seemingly very pleased with herself over something. He straightened and reminded himself he was an earl, a noble, and above all else, a demon. There was nothing this old ninny could do to him... he hoped. "Madam," he greeted and something about the word he chose, or maybe his perfect English accent, made the old woman cackle merrily.

"_Petit_ _enfant_," she said, and he supposed it was her reply to his greeting. "_Parlez-vous francais_?" Her voice was raspy like she gargled with broken glass and though Ciel nodded because it seemed his tongue was stuck in his throat, she continued on in that conglomeration of French/English that everyone in the city seemed to use. "Lookin' for someone, non?"

Ciel's attention at that point could not be diverted from the altar he spotted in the back of the store. A beaded curtain hung between the main room and the altar, but the flickering of hundreds of white candles in all shapes and sizes could not be blotted out. He suddenly remembered wandering into the dining room when Lizzie had covered the table with all those dozens and dozens of candles and when prompted 'why', she had no logical answer. He felt himself drawn to it, and he was taking steps in its direction when he realized the granny was on his heels.

_"Assez, fils,_" she grunted, reaching out and putting a weathered brown hand on his shoulder. Ciel spun to face her and almost demanded she unhand him. But he didn't, and by the look that shadowed her face, he was certain he would have regretted it, too. An instant later, she was dropping her hand from him as if she'd been burned and she clutched it against her chest. Shooting him withering glare, she shuffled over to her counter and disappeared behind it for a moment, emerging with a rosary and tiny vial of what Ciel could only assume was holy water.

"_Diable_!" she screeched, flinging the water at him, and truly, it annoyed him more than anything. "Demon!" and the rosary was held in his face. He could only imagine what the expression he wore on his face looked like, as he stood there before the old woman, hands folded carefully over the handle of his cane, eye half-shut as he gazed at her with the utmost contempt but made no move whatsoever to retreat. A look of confusion crossed her face and the rosary was stuffed into a pocket on her long white skirt. She blinked a couple of times. She lifted the vial of holy water and splashed him with it again and besides an annoyed look as the liquid hit his face, Ciel didn't flinch. The granny looked accusatorially at the vial and recapped it, stuffing it in another pocket. She met his gaze again. "_Diable_, non?"

"If you are asking if I am a demon, I think you already know the answer to that. As for splashing me with holy water, and shoving a rosary down my throat, you've done nothing more than irritate and inconvenience me."

"I see," she offered in accented English, then waddled toward the counter again. _"Pardonnez-moi._ It's not often we come across such beings as you," she explained, hoisting herself up onto her stool again. "And you are not what you appear to be, on many different levels..."

Ciel nodded and turned back to the altar again. "What is that?" he pointed the tip of his cane in the direction of the flaring candles and she shrugged.

"It is a place to offer prayers and ask for prayers."

Ciel turned a skeptical eye-for that was all he really possessed-on the old woman. "What about the rest of this?"

"Voodoo talismans and saints and charms... Anything you need for whatever you seek. Are you going to tell me who you seek?"

"My fian-friend," he amended quickly, "and another woman with her. I could have sworn I saw her come in here..."

"People say such all the time. I think the spirits guide them here. There is something in my shop you need."

"Perhaps." He started toward the altar again, then deciding against it, turned his attention to the thousands of knick-knacks and such that littered the place. "Is it true that a Voodoo doll is not for the cursing of an enemy, but rather bestowing blessings on a loved one?"

"That depends on who has the doll," she remarked pointedly. "It started that way, I think. But I know some Hoodoos that use them for evil. Anything can be evil. Or ambivalent. I think in your case, indifferent._ Le nom de votre ami_, huh?"

Ciel lifted a statuette of some unknown saint and said, "Elizabeth and Mennie." He responded to her absently, suddenly wondering if this woman had more knowledge about him than she was letting on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her draw something from one of her many pockets and toss it up on the counter. He returned his attention to the saint; not that it interested him, particularly, but that the old woman very much gave him the creeps.

There was rattling and rustling and the old ninny cackled again, raising his hackles in ways that the Undertaker had never done. In fact, she very much reminded him of that eccentric former reaper now that he'd thought of it. Cryptic and eerie. He shook his head and focused on the shelves of saints again. "Ah ha!" she suddenly cried and he nearly dropped the damned statuette. "Your lover and her friend are close... very close!"

"Lover?!" Ciel spat. "What the hell-"

"Well, she is, isn't she?" the old woman stared at him through squinted eyes, her face a mask of indiscriminate aloofness.

Ciel grumbled under his breath and finally set the saint back on its shelf. "I suppose."

"Ah Ha!" she barked again, and she stuck a small cheroot in her mouth and chewed at its end. "You look a boy. She's definitely a woman. Which means, _Diable_, you are much older than you look."

"Or perhaps she is a perverse fetishist. You can't claim to know."

"I know, boy. I know you haven't lain with her. I know she knows what you are. I know her friend isn't human, either. I haven't lived ninety years as a Voodoo priestess to be told I'm wrong!"

Ciel could only shake his head at her diatribe. "Then tell me, since you know everything Madame, how do I make my thirteen year-old body into the man I really am?"

"Humph!" and for a long moment, that was all Ciel expected her to say. She dropped off her stool once more, and her hunched-over shuffle took her toward the back of the shop where the altar was. Her little dirty ballet flats that used to be white kicked up a shimmering veil of dust as she neared the back of the shop. Her hair was a short cloud of wiry white curls that stuck out in all directions from her skull and it bounced awkwardly with her movements. She sidestepped into a little alcove before she got to the altar and the darkness in the back of the store seemed to swallow her whole. For a long time, Ciel stood rooted to the spot, wondering what the old granny was up to.

After several minutes, curiosity got the better of him, and Ciel crept to the back where she'd disappeared and found her hunkered over a rickety little table, pouring little bits of crushed herbs into a small sachet bag. He watched her for a while, unaware of how many moments passed-he could have been there for hours, he supposed-as she measured and poured and recapped the little glass vials and dug through the drawer in the table for other ingredients.

When she finished making the sachet, she set it aside and pulled out a tiny bundle of Echinacea flowers, dried and some kind of dried vine which she used to knot it all together into a stick. An actual stick of incense came out next, then a vial of what looked like bath salts.

She worked quickly for someone her age and with her obvious rheumatism; her hands were deft and practiced as she put together all the things he would need for her ritual. She drew out a sheet of paper and with slow strokes, penned out the ingredients of the bag and what they were for, how to use the vial of salts and when to light the incense. She wrote everything in proper order for him, then set the list aside and, reaching into a large basket at her feet, retrieved a large bundle of sage. To his amazement, she started working the sticks into arms and legs, bending them over and binding them until she'd produced a small doll. Then she carried everything back over to the front counter and climbed atop her stool and finished the instructions she'd made for the demon boy.

She "Humph"ed several more times as she painted an eye patch on the head of the doll, then peered over the counter at Ciel with narrowed eyes and fidgeted with the doll some more. When she appeared satisfied with that, she drew out another sachet and added more words to her instructions. Ciel was far beyond curious at that point, and he waited for her to finish as he wrung his hands on the handle of his cane.

"_Garcon_!" she barked suddenly and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What?"

"I am doing this for you free of charge _a une condition_."

"And what is that, Madame?"

"When you are restored to your rightful self, I want you to come see me again. I would very much like to see how beautiful you will be _a maturite,_" she cackled in that cracked and raspy voice. She laid everything out on the top of the counter for him-two sachet, two sticks of incense, the bath salts, the doll, and a single leaf of sage. She tapped her crooked finger on the list. "You pay attention, now, and do not deviate from my instructions. The white bag is your charm, the brown bag is chili powder. Your charm will do you no good to scatter in the house, and the chili powder will not help you if you wear it, _comprendre_?"

"Not quite, but I'll follow your instructions to the letter," he swore, stepping up to the counter.

She threw a piece of burlap down on the counter's top and proceeded to stack everything neatly in the center. She folded the ends over the corners and tied the parcel with a piece of twine. "Remember. Do. Not. Deviate."

"You have my word, Madame."

"You will need help with the ritual. I would suggest you use that lovely friend of yours-not the blonde. The undead. She will not be affected by the process. Your demon friend-he cannot participate. His essence will prevent the ritual from taking effect-"

Ciel cut her off. "How did you know there was another demon?"

She grinned. "I know everything. Your lover is next door looking at hand-blown glass."

Ciel whipped around and started for the door of the shop. "I will not deviate. But I must go. Thank you, Madame," and he was outside in the blinding afternoon sunlight and as he turned to his right, Lizzie and Menefer came out of the French doors of the shop next door, giggling.


End file.
